


The Hard Truth

by LadyDeb



Series: Themes and Variations [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, NOT Gwen-friendly, Temporary Character Death: Jack Harkness, why POD is a Gwen-less Torchwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDeb/pseuds/LadyDeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter leads Jack and the team to discover Gwen Cooper's fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue:  Fields of Stone, Rivers of Ice

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third story in the Points of Departure universe. Why did I name the series Points of Departure, rather than something else? It comes out of a conversation in my writing group, about single points of departure in a storyline that changes everything. In this situation, it was Owen getting into a bar brawl with Joe Carter (and I really hope to write that story some day). Now, as to this story: it is not Gwen-friendly. There’s no bashing here, but I tell the truth about her (as I see it). People who think she really is the ‘heart of Torchwood’ will want to give this a miss. I prefer not to write about her at all, but I don’t like leaving loose ends. This way, I can give Jack closure and move onto far more interesting topics.

Cardiff, Wales

Early 2009

 

 

Suzie Costello wanted one thing made absolutely clear:  she hated cemeteries.  She hated them with a passion.  It reminded her too much of her darkest days, when she was obsessed with death.  Oh, she could dress it up in pretty language as much as she liked, but that was the truth.  She was obsessed with death … even if it was cheating death, she was still obsessed with it.  And since learning of her boss’ inability to die (or rather to stay dead), Suzie’s desire to manipulate life and death … well, died permanently.  When she saw what immortality did to Jack … when she saw the lovers and children and grandchildren whom he lost, when she realized she would have killed innocents … everything turned to ash.

None of these facts explained why she was here in this cemetery today.  Which wasn’t to say that Suzie didn’t have a reason … she did.  Namely, her young teammate Esther Drummond wanted to put flowers on the graves of her lost friends in her first urban explorer group.  Oh, Esther could have gone by herself, but everyone was feeling … fragile after those damnable murdering pepper-pots showed up, and that included Jack.  It also included Suzie.  She could have lost everything, everyone she loved.  The members of Torchwood were scattered to the four corners of the earth, or so it seemed:  Tosh and Gray were on their honeymoon; Alice accompanied Suzie and Owen to a conference in London; leaving Jack, Esther, Steven and Ianto alone in the Hub when all hell broke loose.

Surprise, surprise, Jack’s Doctor saved the day (with considerable aid from Jack, naturally), but evidently, a sacrifice was needed because a few weeks after things were put to rights, Jack left his office with a troubled frown.  He still hadn’t told her about whatever worried him, but right now, he wasn’t talking to Ianto or Esther … or even Gray, something that worried the younger Harkness brother deeply.  On this particular day, the newest member of the team was at Flat Holm, trying to get more information out of his former friend Aaron.  Suzie wished him luck.  As she knew from nearly spinning out of control, people would talk when they wanted … especially if they wanted to gloat or justify their own behavior.

Maybe that was the real reason she accompanied Esther … not just because she was reluctant to allow any of her friends out of her sight, but because her most recent trip to Flat Holm shook her so badly.  She saw entirely too much of herself when she looked into Aaron’s eyes.  Suzie could have so easily taken another path, something that was constantly on her mind (especially since Gray’s arrival and Jack was buried alive).  Regardless of the reason, she did wander about the cemetery while Esther quietly paid her respects to the rest of her urbex group.

And that was how she encountered the dark-haired man standing before a stone.  While Esther was placing bouquets at each grave, Suzie looked out across the rows and rows of stones, a veritable field of stones, something that never failed to make her shudder.  Of course, it also allowed her to keep an eye on Esther.  What she thought might happen to the younger woman in a cemetery, Suzie really couldn’t have said.  Then again, just like her two lovers, trouble tended to find Esther.  Not that Suzie had any room to talk … or any other member of Torchwood, for that matter.  Trouble always seemed to find them.

As Esther turned back to make the hike away from her friends’ graves, shoulders hunched, Suzie quietly turned in the opposite direction, to give her friend time to compose herself.  And it was then that she saw him.  He stood with his back to her, head bowed as he lightly caressed the top of a stone.  Suzie took a step back, startled, because he wasn’t there when she arrived.  _Not good, Suzie_ , she chastised herself, _you should have heard something_.  However, the man was only staring down at the headstone, paying no attention to anyone or anything else … at least until a noise distracted him and he turned to face Suzie.  The two stared at each other for a long moment, until the man cleared his throat, murmuring, “Sorry to disturb you, miss.”

Suzie offered a small smile, answering, “I was just about to say the same to you.”  What exactly did you say to someone in a graveyard when you (or something) just disturbed their mourning?  It was one reason why she left Esther alone when they came here … that, and she didn’t really understand why her young friend was so determined to visit the graves of people she barely knew on a regular basis.

He waved his hand with a tired smile, saying, “No problem.  I was just here visitin’ my fiancée’s grave.”  Suzie swallowed hard, remembering how Owen finally opened up to her about the death of his fiancée Katie during those first three months without Jack.  Their physical relationship had long since ended, but they were finally becoming actual friends.  The stranger gestured a bit to the headstone, saying, “The stone says she’s only been gone about eight months.  But it’s still too long.”  _She’s been gone too long_.  She remembered Owen saying something similar. 

Suzie was struggling with what to say next, when she actually looked at the headstone.  Before she joined Torchwood, she thought the saying ‘ _my blood ran cold_ ’ was just added for dramatic effect.  She learned otherwise (again) when it felt as if her blood turned to rivers of ice in her veins.  Esther joined her and began chatting with the stranger.  Just as well, because Suzie couldn’t take her eyes off that headstone.  Esther asked softly, “Suze?  You okay?  Mr. Williams wanted me to say good-bye for him.”  What?  Suzie looked up and realized that the dark-haired man was trudging away.  For the first time, she noticed that he was massaging his shoulder, as if it pained him.  Esther asked, looking at her with obvious concerned, “Suzie?  What is it, you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

She finally followed Suzie’s line of sight, and the young woman inhaled sharply as she read the name on the stone.  Her brown eyes snapped back to the second in command of Torchwood Three, mouth rounding into a silent ‘ _oh_.’  Suzie looked at the solitary, departing figure once more and removed her mobile from her jacket pocket, hitting ‘speed dial’ and a particular number.  When her boss and friend answered, Suzie said, “Jack, it’s us … Suzie and Esther.  You were talking about someone named ‘Gwen Cooper’ in your dreamscape?  I’ve found her.  No, we’re still here at the cemetery.  Yeah.  We’ll wait for you.”

Suzie hung up and replaced her mobile in her pocket, returning her attention to the headstone.  But it was Esther who murmured, “Gwen Elizabeth Cooper, beloved daughter.  This shouldn’t be as shocking as it is.  Everything else Jack saw during his coma is either true or a warped version of reality.”  Suzie nodded and reached out numbly to put her arm around Esther’s shoulders.  It wasn’t that Esther needed the comfort … but right now, Suzie _did_.  It wasn’t just that Jack was right (again) … it was her old question, returning to haunt her.  Until now, she could dismiss the coma dreams (as they’d taken to calling what Jack dreamed while buried alive) as just that:  dreams, a warped view of reality.  But with this new information, Suzie was forced to acknowledge that something else happened.  Until Jack was returned to them, none of them heard Gwen Cooper’s name.  So the question remained:  how did Jack find out about a police constable who died shortly after the paradox was reversed?

 

TBC


	2. Chapter One:  Answers and More Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like most of the stories in the ‘Points of Departure’ series, this will likely be no more than three or four chapters. Five at absolute most, but that’s highly unlikely. For those just joining us, the first story in the series was ‘A Slightly More Perfect World,’ followed by ‘… And Roses Suit You So.’ There is actually another point of departure, which comes up in this chapter, in addition to Owen’s brawl with Joe Carter. You’ll know it when you see it. Why? It’s what I do when a plot point makes no sense.

Captain Jack Harkness slowly replaced the phone in its cradle, staring at it as if it would come to life and bite him.  Which, given what came through the Rift on a regular basis, wasn’t so far-fetched.  But right now, the phone receiver was the least of his concerns.  Ianto asked softly, “That was Suzie calling?  Are she and Esther all right, sir?”  Jack bobbed his head numbly, still trying to come to terms with what his second had to say.  During the months since Gray found him and returned him to the twenty-first century, the coma dreams (as the rest of the team took to calling them) began to fade slowly away.  Oh, he was no less protective of his people, and the coma dreams still returned to haunt him in his nightmares, but slowly, those nightmares began to lose their affect on him.  Until now.

 He answered, raising his head to meet the young Welshman’s eyes, “They’re both fine.  Esther put the bouquets out, just like always.  But while Suzie was waiting for her, she encountered someone who was visiting the grave of … of someone special.”  Ianto’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, no doubt remembering his own lost Lisa and the months that followed of grieving for her and trying to earn back his teammates’ trust and respect.  However, the young man didn’t speak, and Jack continued, “Suzie happened to look at the name on the stone … it was Gwen Cooper.”  Now Ianto almost literally rocked back on his heels in surprise, recognizing the name from Jack’s coma dreams.  The immortal captain smiled without humor, saying, “Exactly.  I promised Suzie that I was on my way.  Can you hold down the fort here?”

 “Of course I will, sir.  Just as an update … Tosh asked for my help in tracking down those other people you mentioned, especially Commander Johnson, since she’s already found Lois Habiba, Mr. Frobisher, and Brian Green,” Ianto replied.  The news from Suzie must have shaken his normal shields more than he realized, because Ianto continued softly, slipping out of the ‘butler’ role and into Jack’s lover, “Jack … you know that we won’t allow any of that to happen again.  You won’t lose me, or Alice, or Steven this time, or anyone else.”  He caressed Jack’s cheek as he spoke and the immortal smiled slightly, covering Ianto’s hand with his own.  He appreciated Ianto’s words, but even if they managed to deal with the 456 properly this time around, he knew there would come a time when he would have to sacrifice someone he loved if it meant saving every person on the planet.  Ianto cupped his face, adding, “Listen to me.  Whatever you saw in those dreams … even if you did turn those children over to the 456 in 1965-which you didn’t-we wouldn’t have judged you for it.  We’ve all grown up since the Faeries.”  Jack smiled a little at that.  Ianto said similar things in the past, but the immortal knew eventually something would happen to cause Ianto (or one of the others) to re-think his assertion.

 “I probably would have done it, you know, if I hadn’t been dead at the time.  Even though I know that appeasement doesn’t work, even though people who feed the alligator never end up being the last ones eaten … I still would have done it,” Jack answered huskily.  He hadn’t cared, in that dream world, had pretended not to care … and ended up hating himself for so long.  And in his real world, in 1965, he was dangerously close to that line.  Ianto nodded soberly, his eyes never leaving Jack’s face.  He didn’t try to argue with him, didn’t even really make the attempt to comfort him with touch. Ianto generally left that kind of comfort … the gentle touches to his face, the hand on his shoulder … to Esther and Tosh, except when Jack died and returned.  Suzie’s idea of comfort generally involved a bottle of liquor-which they passed back and forth between them-bawdy songs, and even bawdier stories.  Once he admitted the truth about where he was from and when he was from, Suzie soaked up his stories about the future, even more so than the rest of the team.  And Owen?   Usually, Owen took him pub-crawling when he thought Jack needed cheering up.  ‘Usually’ being the operative word.

 But Ianto told him now, returning his attention to the present, “Maybe you would have.  I can imagine a situation where you would have done it.  But those are the operative words, Jack.  Would have.  Don’t forget, I have access to the old files.  And I happen to know that in 1965, you were still dead after your first run-in with Abaddon, so you couldn’t have turned those orphans over to the 456.  Could not, it was physically impossible for you to do that.”  Jack shuddered, remembering the incident in question.  It was one of the reasons he and Suzie stood firm when Bilis Manger began his manipulations to open the Rift and release Abaddon, his demon prince a few years earlier. 

 In 1965, the Rift was opened (supposedly by accident) and Abaddon came through.  Jack was on assignment elsewhere at the time, but he had doubts about whether the accident was actually ‘accidently on purpose.’  Nearly five hundred people died before Jack was able to confront the demon.  Just as he had before the Doctor’s return, Jack died to put an end to Abaddon, but wasn’t allowed to finish the job.  Jack’s life-force significantly weakened the demon, but ‘significantly weakened’ wasn’t the same as ‘killed.’ He was dead for two days at that time, and still very weak for several days after that. 

 Jack closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.  When he opened his eyes, Ianto was smiling a little.  He leaned forward to brush a light kiss to Jack’s lips, murmuring, “And there’s Captain Harkness.  Go.  Take care of the girls, find out what you can about this Gwen Cooper.  I’ll hold down the fort, and make sure that Owen isn’t starting anything he can’t finish.”  That was an oblique reference to Owen hitting on Alice at Christmas … more to the point, to his reaction when Alice all but purred at him and climbed into his lap.  Jack was laughing so hard, he was crying, and it fell to Esther to shield Steven’s eyes.  Something she did, although she was laughing almost as hard as Jack was.  And Owen?  Well, he panicked and almost literally dropped Alice on her rump.  Fortunately, after raising Steven more or less on her own, she had the reflexes to catch herself.

 “We’ll be back in a few hours.  And Ianto?” Jack added.  The young man, who turned away to leave Jack’s office, turned back.  Jack smiled at him softly, adding, “Thank you.”  Ianto smiled at him and left the office.  Jack sighed a little, rubbing the back of his neck, and shrugged into his coat before following Ianto.  Alice was sitting on the couch, trying to help Steven with his homework, and she looked up as Jack came down the stairs.  Sometimes, when the nightmares returned with particular ferocity, Jack could remember the look on his daughter’s face before he left Earth, and he contrasted it with her expression now.  There was no hatred in her eyes, no suspicion, no bitterness … just love and concern.

 He smiled, mouthed, ‘ _it’s fine_ ,’ and she returned her attention to her son.  Most of it, at least, but her eyes remained on Jack.  He still didn’t know what he did to deserve still having his daughter and grandson in his life, but he was determined not to allow anything but old age take them from him again.  Not a blessed thing.  He smiled at her again, ruffled Tosh’s hair, and then swept out to the SUV, ignoring his tech (and sister-in-law)’s mock-indignant yelp.  It was time to meet up with the other members of his team.

  

 

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

Well, _that_ was a strange encounter.  Rhys Williams grimaced a bit, rubbing at his shoulder as he walked away from the cemetery where Gwen was buried, away from the pretty young blonde and the brunette with haunted eyes.  He came here once a week now-a-days, a change from when he was here every day … tell Gwen about what was going on in his life, updating her on his progress after being shot.  He had full mobility of his arm again … returned to Harwood … returned to driving.  There were still nightmares about what happened in that warehouse … about that poor thing … about lying there, bleeding, passing in and out of consciousness and watching Gwen die in increments.  He wasn’t all right by any stretch of the imagination, but he was better.  And maybe that was all he had the right to ask.

 After leaving the two women, he chose to head to an older part of the cemetery … one that didn’t get as much attention as the newer part.  It was a habit he got into when he first started coming to the cemetery on his own.  There was only so much he could say, and only so long he could stand before Gwen’s stone, but he was rarely ready to leave the cemetery at those points.  And so, he began wandering through the rest of the stones.  At first, it was just a restlessness that didn’t allow him to leave Gwen, although he wasn’t technically at her side … but as the weeks passed and the clouds began to lift, he began to notice how neglected these older stones were.  It didn’t feel right, that these poor souls were forgotten, and while he usually didn’t have the money for all of the graves, he brought flowers to some graves during one visit and some to others, and when those flowers died, he replaced them.  He preferred not to use plastic flowers … it just didn’t feel right to him. 

 Then again, so many things about his life over the last several months didn’t feel right, starting with the sensation of being shot.  Most of the time, the grief over losing Gwen drove out everything else, even the pain in his shoulder.  But sometimes … more often than he could admit to anyone other than himself, Rhys wondered about that poor beastie in the warehouse.  What it was, for one thing … where it came from.  How it ended up here … if it suffered as much as he feared it did before it died.  So much of what happened after the bullet burned through his shoulder was a dull haze.  When he regained consciousness, Detective Kathy Swanson was there, looking tired and compassionate and dirty.  She whispered that he wasn’t to worry about anything, just rest.  He hadn’t even time to ask about Gwen before he passed out again.  The next time he awoke, it was to Geraint Cooper screaming at him that he’d gotten Gwen killed … which was how Rhys found out that his fiancée was dead.  And then, Detective Swanson was in the room as well, her normally pretty face twisted with a weird combination of rage and compassion as she wrestled the grieving father out of the devastated fiancé’s room.

 When he awakened for the third time, he learned that after Gwen and Rhys went into the warehouse, after Gwen was murdered and Rhys nearly died, the constabulary had no choice but to call in a covert ops team, something that made the detective’s mouth twist bitterly.  Rhys was in too much pain from the gunshot wound, too heart-broken by losing Gwen, too wrecked by everything to ask for more details.  And the details he did get were even more devastating.  They weren’t able to save the whale, either (which made him wonder if the poor thing could have been saved at all), but they were able to catch Gwen’s murderers.  That was something, at least, especially since they were called in after Gwen was killed.  Maybe if they’d been called in at the beginning, Gwen would still be alive.

 He focused on regaining the use of his arm and trying to put his life back together.  Most of Rhys’ visitors while he was in hospital were his co-workers, Banana Boat and Dafydd, and on occasion, Detective Swanson and Andy Davidson.  Mary Cooper, who utterly doted on him, only came once while her husband was also at hospital for a check-up … she stayed long enough to whisper that she knew it wasn’t his fault, and he wasn’t to blame himself.  She kissed his forehead and slipped out again.  Rhys lay in the bed, feeling tears slip from the corners of his eyes.  He knew it wasn’t his fault that back-up didn’t arrive in time, but he had to wonder if Gwen would still be alive if he hadn’t told her about what he found in the warehouse … if he hadn’t gone undercover to find out more.

 Well, as his mam was inclined to say, there was no use in living in the past.  And he really had to give his mam credit.  He knew that she’d never liked Gwen, never had any use for her, never thought she was good enough for Rhys.  But she’d said not one word against his late fiancée from the moment she’d arrived at his side and in the months since.  There were times when he could see her almost literally biting back nasty observations (especially when she happened to run into Geraint Cooper one day, about two months after Gwen’s death) … and even then, she only returned fire.  It was Gwen who chose to go into the warehouse without back-up on hand, not Rhys, and she wouldn’t tolerate Geraint blaming her boy for his Gwen’s screw-up.  
  
Things were settled down now.  For the most part, at least, and Rhys once more thought about the two women he just met.  He remembered the expression on the brunette’s face … Suzie was her name, he thought … the expression on Suzie’s face when she saw Gwen’s name on the headstone.  As if she’d seen the name before.  The young blonde, Esther, reacted much the same way, but covered more quickly, engaging Rhys in gentle small talk.   
  
She was an American, he realized immediately, and she admitted it cheerfully, explaining that she’d been working in Cardiff for a little less than a year.  Had a few boyfriends, and for now, she was happy.  And Rhys was happy for her.  She blushed a little when she talked about her boyfriends, but it was a good kind of blush.  He found that he liked her very much, and he hoped that these boyfriends of hers were good to her.  They were, though … he could tell from how she talked about them.

 Rhys was almost to his car when a black SUV came tearing into the parking lot.  The lorry driver rolled his eyes.  Honestly, some people had no respect!  A tall, dark-haired man emerged from the SUV, a dark coat swirling about his body dramatically.  Rhys gawped at the newcomer.  He looked to be in his late thirties or very early forties … and even Rhys, who was one hundred fifty percent straight, thank you very much, could tell he was extremely attractive.  The women in the office probably would have even said that he was movie-star handsome.  He stalked toward the cemetery determinedly, face set … and then, something strange happened. 

 The man happened to glance toward Rhys … and he froze.  Literally froze in his tracks.  After a moment, he altered his direction, moving rapidly until he and Rhys were staring at each other, almost literally face-to-face.  Rhys had no idea what to make of this.  Things like this didn’t happen to someone like him.  Especially not when the man (another American) choked out, “Rhys Williams.  You have no idea who I am, do you?”  Rhys could only shake his head.  Like the brunette Suzie, this man had haunted eyes … but his eyes were far more haunted than even Suzie’s.  This man looked like he had the weight of the very ages on his shoulders.

 “No.  No, I don’t.  Should I?” Rhys asked and the man gave a harsh laugh.  But there was no anger in his expression, no bitterness in his eyes, only a tired compassion and a guilty relief.  Something occurred to him then, as he remembered Kathy Swanson’s words while he was in hospital, and he asked slowly, “Are you part of that covert ops team that Detective Swanson told me about, then?  The ones who put a stop to those murdering bastards?”  The man rubbed a hand over his face, looking a bit surprised, and that expression remained there despite the man’s attempt to rub it away.

 “No …. There’s no reason for you to know me.  And yes.  I’m part of that team.  I’m truly sorry we were … I’m sorry we couldn’t save your fiancée, sorry that we couldn’t protect you.  I’m sorry for all of it.  Have a good life, Rhys Williams.  You more than deserve it,” the man told him.  As if the man’s arrival wasn’t strange enough (to say nothing of the conversation), things took a turn for the downright bizarre.  The strange American drew Rhys into a brief hug, kissing the top of his head, before Rhys had a chance to react (much less take a swing at him).  And then he released him, striding toward the gates of the cemetery.

 Rhys could only stare after him numbly.  That … explained a little.  Especially when he saw the strange man greeting the two women at the gates of the cemetery.  So they were part of his team as well?  But that still didn’t explain why the two women reacted so strangely to seeing Gwen’s name on her stone.  He shook his head, which was now starting to hurt.  That man, the American, he acted as if he knew Rhys.  As if they met in the past.  Was it possible that he came to see Rhys while he was in hospital?  It was entirely possible … between the pain and the medication, the truth was, Rhys was mostly loopy even when he was conscious.  And for reasons that he couldn’t quite verbalize, even in the quiet of his own mind, he didn’t think he should call Kathy Swanson.  It just … felt like the wrong thing to do.

 He sat in his car for several minutes, barely aware of opening the door, much less shifting his body inside.  The strange encounters brought those memories back … lying on the ground, feeling the cold of the cement seep into his body, hearing Gwen’s labored gasps for breath, his continuous attempts to reach for her hand … and his repeated failures.  He remembered the pained cries of that poor whale, and Rhys blinked back tears.  He shook his head … there was no changing the past, only living with it.  Still shaken by the strange occurrences of the day, Rhys drove home to his empty flat.  Maybe he would call Dafydd or Banana Boat  … he was too unnerved to be alone on this night.

 

  

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

By now, she was accustomed to ‘weird,’ as part of Torchwood.  Actually, she learned in her first week at the British institute (in her first week with Archie, even).  Life at Torchwood was weird on a daily basis.  It was almost strange to have what she used to call a ‘normal’ day was far stranger than weird at this point.  Having a boss and lover who died and came back to life at least once a week was weird.  There was also the matter of sharing him with Ianto (or did Ianto and Jack share her with each other?  Maybe she and Jack shared Ianto?  She’d have to ask Ianto’s opinion on that, exactly who was sharing whom).  That wasn’t taking into account Myfanwy, the stories she heard about what came through the Rift before she even got here, to say nothing of being turned into a toddler shortly after Jack was forced to euthanize that poor space whale. 

 So, after nearly a year with Torchwood, Esther Drummond was accustomed to weird.  She was accustomed to bizarre.  She was even getting used to having her belief systems being turned inside out.  However, this surpassed ‘weird’ by far.  In a way, it was a blessing that Suzie was as freaked out by this as she was … on the other hand, things that freaked Suzie out were generally Very Bad Things.  However, Esther Drummond remained at her friend’s side, looping her arm around Suzie’s waist and allowing the brunette to lean into her.  It wasn’t often that Esther was permitted to be the strong one for Suzie … normally, if Suzie leaned on anyone, it was Jack or Toshiko or Alice.  And Esther was determined not to let down her friend.

 Both women looked up as Jack entered the graveyard, coat billowing dramatically.  Esther offered him a gentle smile, and saw his features soften in response.  She said simply, “The stone is here, Jack.”  She knew by now when Jack would flirt and tease and when he wanted the basic, bare facts.  Right now was one of those times, and she had to be Jack’s employee, rather than one of his lovers.  Thus, she tamped down on her desire to touch him, to comfort him, in spite of the bleak expression she saw in those blue eyes of his.  Both she and Suzie stepped away from the stone, allowing Jack to see the lettering.  Esther continued her report, “I didn’t find out much from Mr. Williams, her fiancé, but there’s something about that date that looks familiar to me.”

 “It should,” Jack replied, his eyes never leaving the stone as he knelt in front of it, “that was when we encountered the space whale and those monsters in human flesh.”  Ooh, _ouch_.  It was rare when Jack spoke of any humans that way, but given what was done to him on the Valiant (and Esther only knew some of that), she really couldn’t … wait, what?  Esther thought back and now recalled hearing that there was a police officer who was killed and a civilian who was badly injured before they were called in.  Jack went on, “I met Rhys on my way in here.  He asked me if I was part of the covert ops team who, and I quote, ‘ _took out those murdering bastards_.’  I just wish we could have done more.”  Now Esther gave into her initial desire to touch him, settling her hand on his shoulder.  He brushed his cheek against her knuckles, and Esther gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before backing away again.

 “So what’s our next step, Jack?  Should I question Kathy Swanson?” Suzie asked, and Esther barely bit back a laugh, hearing the gleeful note in her friend’s voice.  The other woman actually pouted at her ( _really, Suzie? **Really**_?), but Esther ignored her for the moment.  Suzie, for her own reasons, did not like the Cardiff detective at all.  She never shared those reasons with Esther, although if the way the woman behaved when she called to ask (rather ungraciously) if Torchwood could handle something, Esther could make a few guesses.  She also copped an attitude with Esther when she heard the young woman’s American accent.  Of course, Esther got the last laugh when Swanson’s boss called Jack to praise Esther’s professionalism.

 Yes, it was understood even among his own team that Jack had a tendency to step on toes … he did that with his UNIT liaison, with his CIA liaison (whom he apparently knew when the latter was a boy), with just everyone.  He had a job to do, and he would be damned if he would let them, or hurt feelings, get in the way of that.  But evidently, Detective Swanson still held it against him (and not in a good way) when she saw what he meant.  If Torchwood was called in sooner, that police officer (Gwen Cooper, as Esther now knew her name to be) and that civilian (Rhys Williams) would still have their lives intact.

 “No.  No, not yet.  More research needs to be done.  Esther, you helped Ianto to put the case file together … see what you can turn up.  I know, you don’t like Detective Swanson any better than Suzie does, but …” Jack replied and Esther just waved her hand.  No, she didn’t like the detective (for reasons already stated and really, what was it with people commenting on the way Jack was dressed?  Maybe the look was slightly unusual, but didn’t most people have better things to notice?  The look was good for Jack, everything that needed to be covered was, so _let it go, people_!), but right now, she had a job to do.  Jack went on, “Once we get back to the Hub, I have another job for you, Suzie.  You and Tosh will hack into the police database and see if there’s anything they forgot to mention to us.  When we do talk to Swanson again, I want as much information as possible.” 

 Esther never spent any time in the police department (well, aside from a seminar she took in college, because one of her roommates was thinking of majoring in criminal justice and didn’t want to attend the seminar alone), but what Jack just outlined sounded more than reasonable to her.  Jack sometimes flew by the seat of his pants, but she understood why he wasn’t now.

Her boss/friend/lover paused, looking away from the stone for the first time, and went on, “I don’t know that any of this is important.  It’s over and past.  But I had those dreams while I was buried alive for a reason.  Maybe what we uncover won’t answer those questions I have, and maybe they’ll only lead to more questions.  But we have to dig up what we can.”  With those words, the ‘captain mask’ he wore slipped from his face briefly, and Esther went to him then, wrapping her arms around his waist.  Jack drew her against his body, offering his other arm to Suzie.  Once both women were enfolded against his chest, Jack kissed each of their foreheads, just as he did when the Daleks returned.

 The younger woman didn’t tell Jack that they would figure out what was going on.  She didn’t say anything comforting or useless.  She just held onto him for dear life, praying for the strength to protect her immortal captain’s heart from breaking this time.  During the space whale situation, it was Owen who provided Jack with the greatest comfort … they both wanted so badly to save that poor thing, for their own reasons.  But in the end, all they could provide was a peaceful death … a cessation of its pain.  Sometimes, they couldn’t even do that, and it always broke Jack’s heart.  As she stroked her hands over her captain’s back, Esther prayed that this wouldn’t be one of those times.

 

 

TBC


	3. Chapter Two:  Tend to the Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick comment before I get to the main notes. In all of my ‘Torchwood’ stories, Gray is ‘played’ by Sebastian Stan, who can currently be seen as Jefferson/the Mad Hatter in ABC’s Once Upon a Time. You may also know him as James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes in Captain America: The First Avenger. Okay, in this chapter, we have Gray’s perspective of his arrival to twenty-first century Earth; Ianto reflects; and Suzie has a confrontation with her least favorite DI. Suzie refers in the last section to the Chislehurst Caves, which is a set of tunnels in the south eastern suburbs of London. According to my research, they were used as air raid shelters during the Second World War. We’ll get back to Rhys in the next chapter, and hear more about Gray’s courtship of Tosh a little later.

He took the name ‘Grayson Harkness’ when he arrived in the twenty-first century, because it was the name of his brother.  And Jack was all that mattered to him in those first few days.  While the rest of Jack’s team did their jobs in the wake of Aaron’s attacks, Gray crawled into bed beside Jack to reassure his brother that they were both all right.  He knew a little of what his brother endured, and that little he did know broke his heart.  Jack told him very little, but the fact that Jack couldn’t stay dead was enough information.  Instead, Gray did the talking, telling him what happened to Gray when they were separated during the attack … and he said firmly that they were _separated_.  With everything that happened that day, how could _anyone_ be sure who let go of whose hand?  And for the love of the gods, Jack was just a little boy himself!

 And so, he held Jack, telling him about what truly happened to him.  He spoke of awakening in an unfamiliar cabin, several weeks after the attack.  The Hermit (a local legend, a real person whom the children used to frighten each other) found him in the throngs of people, trying desperately to escape, scooped him up, and nursed him back to health.  When he was fully recovered, the Hermit took Gray back to their mother.  Jack asked in a very soft voice when this was, and Gray admitted it was several months after the attack that tore their family apart.  Their mother was a right mess, and Jack was gone.  Gray kissed the top of his brother’s head, murmuring that he’d learned later that Jack went to war with his best friend … no doubt to avenge Gray and their father, as well as get away from the mother who blamed him for Gray’s loss.

 Years later, Gray _could_ feel sorry for that woman.  As an adult, he could pity his mother.  But at the time, all he understood was that his father was dead and his big brother was gone, driven away by their mother … and he rejected her for it.  His eight-year-old sense of justice and fair play was offended.  He wanted to go home with the Hermit, and no amount of weeping by their mother or admonishments from the Hermit could convince Gray to give his mother a chance.  The next eight years were painful, awkward and not among Gray’s most shining moments as a human being.  His trust in his mother was shattered, and he placed far more faith in the mysterious Hermit than the woman who gave him life.  He didn’t care that she was all he had left, he didn’t care that he was all _she_ had left.  He was angry with her for hurting Jack and for being the reason his father was killed.  He was also angry with their father for getting killed and separating them, as well as with Jack for leaving.  But his mother was his target in those years. 

And so, Gray grew to manhood under the tutelage of the Hermit, joining the Time Agency when he was old enough to search for Jack.  The irony didn’t escape him … Jack joined the Time Agency to find him, and Gray joined the Time Agency to find Jack.   _Yes_ , he thought ruefully, _I joined the Time Agency to find my brother and ended up meeting legends_. Chief among them was the Time Lord known as the Doctor.  Gray couldn’t be certain, but he believed the young-looking man wearing a bow-tie and a fez (?!?!?!) mentioned that he was on his Eleventh body.  What he did remember, rather distinctly, was the Doctor mentioned meeting another Time Agent … a former Time Agent, to whom Gray bore a striking resemblance.  There was sadness in the Time Lord’s expression when he spoke of this former Time Agent, this former Time Agent whom the Doctor inferred was Gray’s older brother.  The Time Lord told him where to find the man, who now called himself ‘Captain Jack Harkness,’ and even provided him with a frequency … more to the point, he provided him with the frequency of Jack’s VM.

 Gray asked why he was doing this … why he was helping Gray, and the Time Lord merely smiled sadly, answering, “I’m not doing this for you.  I’m doing this for Jack.  This is the absolute least I owe him.”  He smiled at Gray sadly as the young Agent disappeared into the distant past of Earth.  It would take time for Gray to understand what the Doctor meant by that.  At the time, he was more concerned with what he would find when he reached Jack’s side.  The frequency led him first to John Hart and Aaron (may he blink for a Weeping Angel), and then to his poor brother, buried alive for a crime that he never committed.  Like his older brother, Gray tended to be easy-going, but seeing Jack laying in the ground, the young man understood the meaning of ‘ _seeing red_.’  Gray dug his brother up with just his bare hands, and once Jack was safe, the young man jumped forward in time once again to make Aaron pay for what he’d done.

As it happened, Aaron was already captured in ‘present-day’ Cardiff, thanks to Suzie Costello.  With Aaron was out of commission, Gray reluctantly left his brother in the care of Suzie and Tosh while he and John Hart made the jump to end the threat of a nuclear meltdown.  The older Time Agent asked softly that he tell Jack that he was sorry, before disappearing.  And Gray found himself confronted with his brother’s entire team upon his return to the Hub, the family he created for himself:  his second in command Suzie; the doctor, Owen; the tech wizard, Tosh; the administrator, Ianto; Jack’s daughter Alice and grandson Steven; and the young blonde American, Esther, who seemed to fulfill a variety of roles within the team.  He was regarded with caution, as well as some suspicion.

And yet, in spite of that, in spite of everything that happened to them that day … the brothers were left alone.  The others waited until Gray led Jack to his room under his office, and then they dispersed to do what was necessary.  Gray looked after his breath, gently washing the dirt of those five years from his skin and his hair, holding him and murmuring over and over again, praying that his brother would accept the truth, “It wasn’t your fault, Devin.  I love you.”  He heard his big brother gasp a little at the given name he’d all but forgotten, a name he hadn’t been called since he was probably twelve or thirteen.  He knew from his brief conversations that Jack couldn’t stay dead, and Gray began to realize it likely had something to do with the Doctor.  But Gray didn’t care … he was back with his brother, and nothing would ever separate them again.  He hugged Devin/Jack/whatever he wanted to call himself as the water beat down on them both, whispering that he loved him, that it wasn’t his fault, and he wouldn’t leave him again.

 More explanations would come later, including how Gray came to escape the monsters and why the little boy turned against their mother, but that didn’t matter at that moment in time.  All that mattered was his brother and the fact that Jack’s entire team was still alive.  Gray quickly found himself absorbed into the team, into the family.  He came to learn that both Ianto and Esther were Jack’s lovers, and according to Suzie, there was a particular story to that.  A story that made her look very guilty, and a story which he evidently hadn’t earned yet.  But it didn’t matter.  Really, it didn’t.   At this moment in time, Gray only cared that his brother was reasonably happy and Gray himself was happy with his Toshiko.  Everything else, as the saying went, was icing.

Then there was the matter of Jack’s dreams while he was buried alive (Gray was determined to make Aaron pay for that).  They still didn’t know what caused his dreams, and with the revelation that yes, Gwen Cooper actually existed, Gray was more than a little freaked out.  His brother dreamed about a reality that didn’t exist, and while he was able to dismiss it earlier, this new revelation (and its implications) terrified him.  He didn’t know why any of this was happening.  But he did know one thing:  immortal or mortal, it didn’t matter.  Jack was his brother, and Gray would be damned before he would let anything or anyone hurt him ever again.

 And that was a promise.

 

  TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

There were times when he would awaken and watch his partners sleeping.  They all had nights like that … it sometimes seemed as if they took turns.  Tonight, it was Ianto’s turn, as if the other two hadn’t worn him out earlier.  Which they did.  But Ianto had his share of nightmares, and these kinds of nightmares … well, after these kinds of nightmares, he was comforted by watching Esther as she curled against Jack, and by the soft smile decorating Jack’s face.  Ianto kissed his forehead lightly, before brushing an equally soft kiss to Esther’s hair.  She murmured something he couldn’t quite make out, but remained asleep.

He settled in a chair near the bed and just watched them.  There was never a conversation about a three-way relationship … it just sort of happened.  Esther often observed when people (her sister) asked about how that came to be, ‘we just fell into it.’  He and Jack were sleeping together for several months, and then came the shelter case.  A particular set of aliens were using a shelter for battered women as a breeding ground, and Esther went undercover.  They were able to save most of the already-traumatized women, but it was a near thing … and they nearly lost Esther.  Oh, she dismissed the danger she was in, but Tosh hacked into the cameras and allowed them to see how things played out before they got there.  She could have died.  By now, all of them knew that Jack would likely live forever … knew that he already outlived so many, and would outlive them all.  So, no one protested when Jack slipped up into his office while Owen checked Esther over for ‘permanent damage,’ as he put it.  They knew.  They knew.  Suzie held Esther’s hand, stroking her hair as Owen made sure there were no hidden injuries.  Jack wanted to be there, too, and that desire was tearing him apart. 

 It was Ianto who eventually took his trembling boss by the hand and led him down to the showers where Esther was washing the dirt and the grime and the blood from her body, the hot water soothing the bruises she’d sustained during the course of the investigation.  The two men stripped and stepped into the shower, holding their youngest member as she wept and soothing her as she screamed and pounded against the walls in sheer rage and frustration, grief and guilt.  In one of those terrible jokes that the universe so loved, one of the women Esther bonded with died.  Suzie found her in one of the rooms, cradling the dead woman in her arms as that woman’s child curled against Esther’s side.  Suzie picked up the little boy and helped Esther to her feet, allowing Ianto and Owen to do their jobs.  In a distant voice, on the way back to the Hub, Esther told Tosh that the other woman died saving her child … and that Esther wasn’t able to get to her in time.  There was nothing she could have done, nothing anyone could have done, but Ianto knew from painful experience that she would still blame herself and play the ‘if only’ game.

They held her, comforted her, soothed her, pleasured her as grief and rage and guilt turned to something that could burn them all, even in the wet confines of the shower.  The two men took turns swallowing her moans and gasps, even carrying her together to a small bedroom just off the shower room.  That became their room, whenever they needed each other.  That first night, they had all needed each other.  A few weeks later, it was Ianto’s turn to need, and he found comfort and rightness in Jack’s ministrations, in Esther’s arms warm and strong around his body, her soft lips against the side of his head, Jack’s hands skimming along the length of Ianto’s body.  And Jack needed them, too.  He needed to touch them both, needed their comfort, their tenderness, and while Esther was still learning that it was all right to be rough with Jack at times, that was okay, too.  Somehow, the three of them just fit.

 Esther seemed to see things the same way.  They never openly talked about their ... about their arrangement.  Not directly, but in general terms.  He asked her once, while they were waiting for Jack to come back from helping the Doctor, if she had any regrets about Torchwood … about joining Torchwood, about what she did since she joined Torchwood.  At this point, Steven was asleep across her lap, his head resting lightly against her shoulder.  She stroked his hair lightly, kissing his forehead as she considered the answer to that.

At last, she raised her eyes to meet his and said quietly, firmly, without hesitation, “No.  No regrets.  I don’t regret you and Jack, I don’t regret the work I’ve done here.  My only regret is that I haven’t been to the gravesites of the others in a while.  If we get through this … and we will … I’ll go back.  They deserve better than this from me.”  She rested her head on Ianto’s shoulder, and he kissed the soft hair as she murmured, “You deserve better, too.”  He didn’t argue with her, learning the hard way that it didn’t work.  She was stubborn, their sweet girl.  Esther had a bad habit of comparing herself to Tosh, to Suzie, to Owen, and even to Ianto, and finding herself wanting.  At least she didn’t try to compare herself to Jack.  There was no comparison there, no basis for comparison, because even without his immortality, Jack was simply extraordinary.

And yet, Esther never allowed that to stop her … her sense that she wasn’t as good as the others.  She still tried to take care of them, still teased Owen, still hugged Suzie when the second in command became particularly prickly, still helped Ianto to tag-team Tosh when she was in danger of getting lost in her work.  Of course, Ianto knew that she was trying to prove herself.  She would never be a doctor like Owen, never have Tosh’s technical skills, or Suzie’s mechanical ability.  But what she did have was a gift for taking care of others, usually without them realizing what she was doing.  And sometimes, Esther herself wouldn’t realize what she was doing … just did what she thought was necessary.  Ianto, though … he knew. 

Jack murmured something in his sleep, and Ianto smiled when he settled at an answering mumble from Esther, because it was just so … it reminded him of why he loved to watch his two partners sleep.  And after today … after today, he _needed_ to watch them like this.  Ianto thought about what he heard from Suzie, from Esther, from Jack himself.  Of course, he remembered hearing Jack talk about this Gwen Cooper from his coma dreams, from those five years he was buried under Cardiff by not-Gray (Ianto wouldn’t grant him the consideration of using his name, not after what he’d done to Jack, what he would have done to Cardiff as a whole, and what he tried to do to Tosh).

 So.  Gwen Cooper was real, and she was the police constable who was killed before Torchwood was called in.  Ianto thought about that, examined it from every angle he could imagine, and then decided that it really didn’t matter.  He was sorry that she was dead, of course; and given what he went through, given what he put the rest of the team through, with Lisa, he was also sorry for her fiancé or boyfriend or whatever he was.  But it didn’t matter.  It mattered to Jack, because of his dreams.  It mattered to Suzie, because she wanted to know why Jack’s dreams involved a woman whose name they never even knew, not even when she died.  But Ianto’s concern now was with the living: with Alice and Steven; with Owen and Tosh and Gray and Suzie; and with Jack and Esther.  Let the dead bury the dead … he was needed to tend to the living.

Gray.  Ianto smiled in spite of himself.  He rubbed at his jaw, remembering what happened when his lover’s younger brother found out about Lisa.  He didn’t learn about it from Jack, of course; that wasn’t who Jack was.  More than likely, it was Suzie who let something slip.  Regardless of who told him, Gray learned about the entire mess with Lisa and decked Ianto, telling him that he would do far worse if something like that happened again. Those were his words.  But under those words were the true meaning:  _if you **ever** hurt my brother again, I **will** destroy you_.  Message received. 

Ianto didn’t hold the other young man’s actions against him … Jack were his brother, and they’d been separated for twenty years by Gray’s time line.  That was what brothers did.  They could bicker and fight and such, but should anyone else hurt either brother … well.  That was something entirely different.  However, that didn’t stop him from warning Gray that he would return the favor tenfold if he ever hurt Tosh (or maybe, that was why he warned Gray).  Actually, he reminded Gray that he (with Esther’s help) controlled the food and drink in the Hub, and was gratified at the look of sheer horror in Gray’s expression.  Message received, and Gray swore he would cut off certain appendages before he would ever deliberately hurt Tosh.  That was good enough for Ianto. 

 There was a sleepy stirring from the bed, returning Ianto’s attention to his lovers, and Jack propped himself up on one elbow, holding out a hand as he murmured, “Yan?  Everything okay?  Come back to bed.”  Ianto just smiled as his heart quickened.  Returning to bed sounded like an excellent idea, even before the slim blonde stretched out beside Jack copied his actions, propping herself up on one elbow to hold a hand invitingly to Ianto.   She was listing into Jack … evidently, she was still exhausted from their earlier bed-bound acrobatics.

 “Everything is fine.  Just needed to watch you for a few minutes,” Ianto replied as he returned to the bed, settling down on Jack’s other side.  He brushed a light kiss to the immortal’s shoulder, before reaching out for Esther’s hand.  Her fingers interlaced with his over Jack’s torso, and Ianto murmured, “I was just thinking about earlier.  So many people see an issue with kissing their boss’ arses.  They have _no_ idea just how pleasurable it can be.”  He was rewarded with a snicker from Jack and a giggle from Esther, along with Jack’s lips pressed against his forehead.

 “The tickle attacks were fun, too,” Esther observed.  Ianto couldn’t argue with that, not when it was one of their coordinated tickle attacks that set the night into motion.  But a jaw-cracking yawn prevented him from saying anything in response.  Instead, he snuggled against Jack, tightening his fingers around Esther’s, and allowed himself to drift back to sleep.  He would pick up the pieces that would fall once this investigation was complete.  But this time, he wouldn’t be alone.  This time, he would have help.

 

 TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

The meeting with Rhys Williams in the graveyard that morning disturbed her far more than she was willing to admit.  For the most part, Suzie was able to put Jack’s dreams out of her mind, although she had nightmares for several months afterward.  She had nightmares about what she would have turned into, about what Jack must have experienced while he was buried alive, about the torments that pushed an already-unstable child into insanity.  She had nightmares about what she experienced as a child, and about her part in the investigation which eventually pushed Esther into Jack and Ianto’s arms.  So many nightmares, so much guilt.

 Suzie destroyed the Resurrection Gauntlet when she realized what she was becoming, what the path before her led to, and Jack held her hand as she did so.  He held her after it was over, kissing the top of her head as he so often did.  And she, she clung to him, arms tight around his waist and his heart thumping reassuringly under her ear.  Jack, who listened to her as she haltingly told him about her past, about her father, about what he had done to her … Jack who wept for that little girl, and fiercely promised that such a thing would never happen to her again.

 She’d believed him then, and she believed him now.  She did not, however, believe that it was he who ended her father’s life.  Not with the way Chandra Costello died … that wasn’t Jack’s style.  Given that Suzie’s father was in hospital at the time, Jack would have smothered him with a pillow, rather than poisoned the nutrients in his IV.  No, that was far more subtle than Jack’s normal style.  It wasn’t Owen … that left Tosh (unlikely), Esther (possible, but Suzie didn’t think Esther was to that point yet), Ianto (that wouldn’t surprise her), Gray (maybe), or Alice.  Yes, Ianto and Alice were the most likely suspects.  Suzie sensed, however, that she would never know, and maybe that was how it should be.

 “So.  You met Rhys Williams at the graveyard today, did you?” a familiar (and annoying) voice asked.  Suzie sighed and pivoted to face Detective Kathy Swanson.  Oh.  _Wonderful_.  Suzie didn’t enjoy being around the detective even when she was in a good mood, and when she felt as melancholy as she did right now, well … so much for her hopes for having a good night.  She knew that Jack, Ianto, and Esther were back at the Hub, likely curled up together like exhausted puppies and almost smiled at the imagery that prompted.  Swanson continued, “Do I even want to know why you were there?”

 “Because my dear friend Esther is still struggling with survivor’s guilt, and if she can’t bring her urban explorer friends back to life, she can make sure they aren’t forgotten,” Suzie answered coolly.  She saw Swanson flinch when Esther’s name was mentioned, and bit back a smile.  Apparently, Swanson was still smarting from the dressing-down she got from her captain after the last time the police and Torchwood had to work together.  Suzie was still quite proud of Esther, especially when she remembered the way Jack beamed at their newest member.  After a moment, Suzie went on, “Besides, there’s no reason in the world why I shouldn’t visit the cemetery when I choose.  I do, however, wonder how you knew about it.”

 “Dafydd told me.  Rhys was unsettled when he met you and that captain of yours … when he got home, he called his two friends, and they called me.  So what the hell did Torchwood gain by this, hm?” Swanson answered.  Suzie barely managed to keep from bristling, both at the implied insult to Jack and at the implicit accusation that Suzie and Esther set up the initial meeting with the grieving fiancé of Gwen Cooper in the cemetery.  Suzie all but snorted at the idea.  As if!  She had better things to do with her time and energy … then again, the same was true of her conversations with Kathy Swanson, who got under her skin with very little effort, and not in a good way, either.  Not that Suzie had an issue with other women.  There were times when she had more … amorous thoughts about Tosh, especially after the tech wizard first started working for Torchwood, but she never acted on them.  Seeing what Tosh had with Gray now, she was glad for that.

 Suzie told the detective, “Like I said.  Esther wanted to put bouquets on the graves of her urban explorer group.  She got out of the habit when she first started with us, and then the Earth got moved.  None of which is your business, but if it keeps you from going after Esther again, I got no problem with telling you the truth.”  Actually, she was starting to enjoy this.  She’d wanted to tear a strip out of Kathy Swanson’s hide for months now, and the detective just handed her the excuse she wanted.  She advanced on the other woman, saying, “You know, I’ve just about come to the conclusion that the real reason you lot resent Torchwood is because you realize just how worthless you really are.  You can’t even stop a bloody child molester, so how could anyone expect you to do anything else?”

 Swanson actually stepped back, eyes narrowing at the unexpected assault.  She snapped, “We resent Torchwood because of the way you lot swan in, take over, and then leave a mess for us to clean up!”  Suzie all but snorted at that, and Swanson continued stridently, “Oh, you’re going to deny it?  There’s the Brecon Beacons, for one thing …” And she got no further.  Suzie, who’d been on the verge of walking away, rounded on her and got right in her face, because no one mentioned that time without consequences.  Not after what Torchwood almost lost in the Beacons, not after everything that happened to those whom Suzie loved.

 “Oh, no.  No, no, no.  You do _not_ get to throw that in my face, not when the constabulary ignored what was going on out there.  Oh, that’s right, how silly of me to forget … the local coppers were in on it!  It ended up being Torchwood that dealt with that mess, with those bloody cannibals!  Tosh and Ianto nearly died out there, so excuse me if we left you a mess, but the threat had been eliminated and we had two injured team members to take care of!  You can’t handle cannibals, you can’t handle child molesters … talk about compensation issues.  And, oh, where were you when those sodding Daleks showed up?  Jack risked his life to deal with that threat, so where was the vaunted Cardiff constabulary?  OH!  I know!  They were all hiding under their bloody desks, just like the bloody cowards they are!” Suzie retorted.

 “That … wasn’t … our … jurisdiction!” Swanson bit out and Suzie just smirked at her bitterly.  She wanted to play that card, did she?  The detective continued, sounding just as bitter as Suzie felt, “And there was nothing that we could do against those monsters, nothing anyone could do except that Doctor.  Where were you when all that was going on?  Yeah, you said that captain of yours risked his life, but what about you?  What did you do, what did _any_ of you do to help the people of Cardiff?”  Suzie folded her arms over her chest, offering a smile that was almost feral in her contempt.

 “I was in London, along with Owen and Alice, and we were herding people toward the Chislehurst Caves to protect them from the Daleks.  And not your jurisdiction?  All right.  Fine.  The next time the Cardiff constabulary has an issue, we’ll just tell you, ‘ _sorry, not our jurisdiction_.’  I mean, it works so well for you, after all!” Suzie fired back.  There was a part of her which knew she was being unfair, not just to the detective, but to the department as a whole.  But right now, she just didn’t care.  Suzie’s nerves were already rubbed raw by the discovery that Gwen Cooper actually existed in the real world, by thoughts of her father, and Swanson made things worse with her usual attitude.

 “Look, I didn’t want to start a fight … I just wanted to know why you two approached Rhys Williams, when to the best of my knowledge, you lot didn’t even know his name,” Swanson exhaled and Suzie shook her head.  Swanson added, actually sounding upset, “I didn’t come here to start a fight, I didn’t come here to start a new turf war with Torchwood.  I just wanted to know what the hell was going on.”

 “Oh, for … Look!  We _didn’t_ approach him, Detective Swanson!  Esther was placing bouquets, as I said, and I was watching over her.  Mr. Williams was behind me, at his fiancée’s gravesite.  We didn’t seek him out, we didn’t approach him!  After he was kidnapped, while he was in that induced coma, Jack had dreams, nightmares that involved both Mr. Williams and his fiancée.  We called to tell Jack about it, because he’s still having nightmares about that time.  It was happenstance, nothing more than that.  Quite frankly, we have better things to do with our time!” Suzie retorted, settling her hands on her hips as she often did when one of her teammates were being particularly intransigent (usually Owen, but not always).

 Kathy Swanson stared at her for a long time, before finally saying, “I believe you.” Suzie barely kept from snorting in disgust.  Well, wasn’t that just peachy, as Esther was fond of saying when she was particularly irritated.  Swanson continued after a moment, almost hesitantly, “You said that Harkness was abducted and placed in a medically induced coma … what happened with that?”  Suzie couldn’t believe what she was hearing … then again, she supposed that the police captain never shared that with his people after Cardiff was nearly turned into a nuclear wasteland by Aaron the crazy pseudo-brother.

 “A few months back, before the murdering pepperpots showed up, a kid who knew Jack years ago kidnapped him to take revenge for the boy’s own abduction.  Seems he held Jack responsible for the kidnapping, never mind there was nothing he could have done about it.  This was the same s.o.b. who unleashed hell in Cardiff in that so-called terrorist attack.  He drugged Jack, putting him in a coma, and Jack’s younger brother Gray … Tosh’s new husband … rescued him and helped to put an end to the mess,” Suzie answered.  It was a carefully-edited version, but true nonetheless. Swanson didn’t need to know that Jack was buried alive for five years in the distant past.  It was none of her damn business, especially not after the accusations she just leveled at them.  Swanson was quiet and Suzie bobbed her head once, before walking away.

 “Your contempt for us is personal, isn’t it, Costello?  It goes beyond the tension that has always existed between Torchwood and the constabulary,” Swanson said as Suzie got a few yards away.  The second in command for Torchwood Cardiff stopped in her tracks and turned to face the other woman once more.  She realized, once more, that she was being unfair … not just to Swanson, but to the police force in general.  It began when she was still a child, and it only intensified over the course of her life.

 She walked slowly back to confront the police detective, responding, “You know what, Swanson?  You’re absolutely correct.  My contempt, my loathing, for you lot is _very_ personal.  And it goes back decades, to when you coppers failed to protect a little girl whose father liked touching her, including in places he had no business touching her.”  She had the pleasure of seeing Kathy Swanson blanch with utter horror as she realized what she was hearing, and Suzie smiled at her grimly.

 “I didn’t know,” was the weak answer, and Suzie just shook her head.  Well, _obviously_.  She only told Jack a few months earlier, after he returned from what Aaron did to him.  And even then, she wouldn’t have told him if he hadn’t told her about what he saw in his coma dreams.  Swanson continued after a moment, “But there’s only so much we can do, Costello, and I’m sorry for what your father put you through.”  Suzie rolled her eyes this time, wondering if Swanson was always this slow, or if she just pulled a double-shift.

 “I know that.  I know all of that.  But you know something, I don’t care, either.  You continue to stomp your feet and get all stroppy because Jack shuts you out, even now that you’ve seen what happens when Torchwood doesn’t get involved.  Gwen Cooper died, her fiancé could have died … and that’s on you, not on us.  Do you know that Rhys Williams thanked Jack for taking out the bastards who killed his fiancée?  He certainly did, and I think Jack was still reeling from that an hour later.  He thanked us, Detective Swanson.  None of us do this job with the expectations of thanks, but that doesn’t make us any less appreciative when we get that thanks,” Suzie retorted.  She shook her head again, and began walking away once more.

And once more, she stopped, because there was one last parting shot she had for the detective.  She pivoted where she was standing and said, “Oh, and a little piece of advice?  If you _ever_ go after Esther Drummond again, be advised that I will push back, and I won’t be nearly as nice as she was … and I sure as hell won’t be professional.”  Once more, Suzie had the pleasure of seeing Swanson blanch, and she smiled grimly.  With that parting shot delivered, Suzie turned her back on the detective and headed toward the Plass.  She knew she wasn’t being fair. She knew she wasn’t being nice.  She knew that she was actually being something of a bitch, and that was more than okay with Suzie.  Every organization needed at least one ball-busting bitch, and in Torchwood Cardiff, that role fell to Suzie … and she was damn proud of that.

 

 TBC


	4. Chapter Three: Standing on Quicksand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Hope everyone is keeping their sanity during the holiday rush … and I hope everyone had a fantastic Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/whatever you celebrate. I’m pleased to report that everyone was happy with their gifts from me, and now I’m looking forward to the New Year. I think 2013 is going to be a terrific year … I know it’ll be off to a great start, with seeing my nieces and nephew next weekend, and meeting up with my Australian friend Jessica in DC the weekend after that. I covered this on ‘The Hidden Child,’ but if you have the chance to go see The Hobbit, I highly recommend it. Richard Armitage is absolutely fantastic as Thorin Oakenshield, and if I wasn’t already a fan of his, thanks to the BBC’s ‘Robin Hood,’ that would have done it for me. Okay, now for this chapter: Rhys discovers the truth about the day Gwen died; Gray and Tosh make plans for their future; while Jack takes a walk that leads to something unexpected. It seems this story will be slightly longer than I originally anticipated. Oh, well, there are worse things in the world. (shrugs) Onward and upward!

It honestly didn’t occur to Rhys to call Detective Swanson about his encounter with the covert ops team in the graveyard.   He needed time to process the entire encounter, and it was for that reason that he called Dafydd and Banana-Boat.  The truth was, his two old friends were a big reason he managed to get through Gwen’s death and their encounter with the murderers, to say nothing of the weeks and months of physical therapy that followed.  He needed his friends in the wake of the recent unexpected meeting, not a copper.  Besides, it wasn’t as if they sought him out.  It was an accident, and Rhys accepted that.  Truly, he thought the man and older woman were more stunned than he was.

 What he never anticipated was seeing Kathy Swanson the afternoon after their bloke’s get-together, looking concerned and just a bit strained.  It was, now that he thought about it, the exact same way she looked after a confrontation with Geraint Cooper.  Rhys was just getting off work, saying good-bye to Ruth at Harwood’s when he saw the detective standing beside his car.  She offered him a tired, strained smile, saying, “Rhys.  Hope you don’t mind an impromptu visit.”  Rhys wondered briefly if it would make a difference if he said ‘yes,’ and then dismissed it.  He actually had a good idea why she was here.

 Even so, he smiled as he approached, and Kathy continued, “I understand that Torchwood approached you.”  Torchwood?  Kathy elaborated, “The covert ops team who took out Gwen’s murderers.”  Oh.  Is that what they were called?  He didn’t remember hearing that from any of the people he talked to.  Kathy continued, “Is there a reason you didn’t call me after you met with them?”  Rhys looked at her blankly, and Kathy continued, “They aren’t supposed to go near you … near anyone who is affected by their hi-jinks.”  Rhys stiffened at that.

 “They didn’t approach me.  I don’t know why Dafydd and Banana Boat told you otherwise, but they didn’t approach me.  It just happened.  That pretty young blonde was putting flowers on her friends’ graves, and the brunette was watching over her, so don’t go putting this on them,” he retorted.  Kathy actually reeled back at his words, and Rhys continued, “Now, I appreciate that you’re trying to look out for me, Detective, but you don’t need to.  They didn’t approach me, they didn’t hurt me.  What they _did_ do was put my Gwen’s murderers six feet under.”

 Kathy held up her hands, saying, “I understand that, Rhys, but this what you need to understand:  Torchwood is dangerous.  People who work for them, who get involved with them, don’t tend to last beyond thirty-five, if they’re lucky.  The last thing I want to see happen to you is getting involved with them.”  Get involved with them?  Hell, Rhys wanted to buy the entire bloody team a beer … or, at least a drink!  Kathy added, “You’re right.  I _am_ trying to look out for you, and where Torchwood is involved, you _do_ need it.”  Rhys felt his jaw tightening, resentment surging through him at her attitude.  What the hell did she think he was, a ten year old boy who thought Captain America was real?

 He replied, trying very hard to stay calm (because he was a grown man, and not a ten year old boy), “I’m no child, Kathy, and if I want to buy the covert ops team a drink for putting an end to those bloody bastards, I’ll sodding well do it!  They didn’t approach me, they didn’t try to recruit me, it was just a chance encounter in the graveyard while a sweet girl put flowers on her friends’ graves.  And quite frankly, I’m more than a little insulted that you think I’m incapable of taking care of m’self!  If you didn’t want me knowing about Torchwood, then **maybe** you should have called them as soon as you got the call from Gwen!”

 “What call?  Oh … no.  **No**.  Gwen didn’t call for back-up that day, Rhys.  She never called for back-up, whatever she told you.  We only knew about the shooting because of the calls we did get from concerned citizens in the area,” Kathy responded.  With those words, with that simple sentence, Rhys felt his world tilt on its axis.  Gwen never called in.  He put a stabilizing hand against his car door, Gwen’s words as she joined him echoing through his mind, ‘ _I’ve called in for back-up.  Let’s go_.’  She never called in … she never called for back-up.  Slim fingers closing around his wrist brought his attention to Kathy, who whispered, “Oh God.  You thought … oh, Rhys.  I’m so, so sorry.”

 “No … no, you’re mistaken.  She called in, she told me that she called for back-up.  Maybe there was a … a … a mix-up or something.  She called in, she told me that she called in,” Rhys all-but-pleaded.  He hated the way his voice sounded, hated the sympathy in Kathy’s eyes, hated the way the world was tilting under his feet, because it wasn’t.  It wasn’t, and it should have.  Kathy merely shook her head, dark eyes filled with sympathy, and even worse, just a little bit of pity.

 “Oh, Rhys.  She l … she never called in, she never called for back-up.  I checked all of our logs personally after you gave your statement, hoping that I was wrong.  But I wasn’t,” Kathy replied.  The detective’s words repeated in his mind.  She never called in.  Gwen never called in, never called for back-up, there was never back-up coming.  There was a roaring in his ears and Rhys felt his legs give out under him.  This wasn’t how he wanted to end today.  Today was good, for the most part, a good day, with few flashbacks and no one walking on eggshells around him any more.  He’d been in a good mood as he left … wanted to go home, call Banana Boat and Dafydd and tell them that he was all right today, and would they be interested in going to a rugby match this weekend.  He hadn’t wanted … any of this.

 Kathy knelt before him, murmuring, “This is why I was so angry when I found out that you met Torchwood.  I had a bad feeling you would end up finding things out that you didn’t want to know.”  Rhys waved a hand almost numbly.  This wasn’t Torchwood’s fault.  Gwen lied to him.  She told him that she called in, that back-up was coming, when she did nothing of the sort.  Kathy murmured, “I was angry enough when I learned that she went in and confronted them on her own, but when I learned that you were dragged into it as well … that she put your life in danger with her grandstanding, I was almost sick.”

  _Nononononono_ … but Rhys could hardly breathe, much less talk.  Part of him was listening to Kathy Swanson, but another part of him was back in that place of death, hearing his fiancée’s gasps for breath, smelling blood and gunpowder, feeling the beastie’s moans of distress reverberate through the concrete under his body.  Gwen went in first, he remembered … she was _so_ determined to save whatever was in danger, his Gwen.  Rhys didn’t want her to go alone (even if back-up was coming), and so, he followed behind her.  She’d not been best pleased with him, hissing at him to go back outside and watch for the reinforcements, but he refused to leave her side.  And that attracted the attention of the murderers … and then, there was nothing but pain and horror, and _oh God, Gwen please don’t die_! 

 Kathy’s arms slipped around him and she murmured, “C’mon.  Let me drive you home.  You shouldn’t be alone now.”  He didn’t argue with her.  Gwen lied to him, because … because she knew that if back-up wasn’t coming, he wouldn’t have let her go in.  She knew that and … oh God.  He didn’t have to be shot, and Gwen didn’t have to die, and Rhys Williams didn’t know what to think about that, what to feel.  He didn’t know whether to be angry or sick or … And what was even worse was the single refrain that repeated in his mind:  if she lied to him about calling for back-up … what other things did Gwen lie to him about? 

 

  

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

“Guess who.”

 Toshiko Sato-Harkness smiled as a pair of warm hands covered her eyes and a familiar voice breathed those words into her ear.  Lips pressed against her temple and her husband of less than a year murmured, “You were gone before I got up.  That was very not nice of you, Toshiko.”  She shivered a little as his warm breath caressed the sensitive skin of her neck, and then closed her eyes as Gray pressed light kisses at that junction of her neck and shoulder.  Even now, months after their meeting and subsequent wedding, there were times when Tosh had a hard time believing that this amazing man fell in love with her, that Gray could possibly want her.  But he did, and spent several hours a night demonstrating that fact to her.  She murmured, “Be careful.  My husband is somewhere around here, and he tends to be jealous.  Not like his big brother.”

 Gray snorted at that, before brushing his lips against her jaw and murmuring, “Are you kidding?  Jack would probably want to join in.”  Tosh laughed aloud, leaning back into her husband’s embrace more fully, and Gray continued, “He might joke about it, Tosh, but that’s not his style.  Besides, he’s not into incest.  He has, however, instructed me that I’m to take you home, post-haste.  It seems my beautiful wife has been working for the last several hours without taking a proper break, and that’s not good for our little Peanut.”

 “Peanut?  You’re calling our unborn child ‘Peanut,’ are you serious?  Can I be there the first time you say that in front of Owen?” Tosh challenged and Gray scooped her into his arms, before sitting in the computer chair (that was far sturdier than it looked, and thank the ancestors for that, considering what she and Gray subjected it to on a regular basis).  Tosh happily curled into his lap, continuing her work as he promised her just that.  It was still hard for her, when she thought about it, to accept that she had everything a woman could want:  an amazing job; a boss who would always be her hero; an extraordinary husband; and now a baby on the way.

 There was a time when Tosh didn’t think she would have any of those things.  She shuddered, remembering her time in the UNIT cells, until Captain Jack Harkness swept into her life and gave her the hope of seeing the sun once more.  He did that, metaphorically and literally.  Everything she had now, she owed to Jack, and it was a debt that she could never repay.  Jack tried to laugh it off when she told him (at the same time she told him about the baby), telling her that she could name the baby after him.  And then, his face gentled before he drew her into a fierce hug, murmuring, ‘ _you want to thank me?  You take care of that baby and be the brilliant mother I know you’ll be_.’  Such breath-taking faith he had in her … he truly believed that she would be as a good as a mother as she was a technician.

 Tosh wasn’t so sure, but Gray shared his older brother’s faith in her.  So, for that matter, did Suzie.  When Tosh confided her fears in the second in command, Suzie shook her head and replied, ‘ _you’ll be a fantastic mum, Tosh.  You’re one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met.  Don’t think I’ve forgotten the way you looked after Jack when you and he returned from 1941.  And for so long, you were patient with Owen, but then you met Gray and realized that’s where you belonged.  Remember that desire to comfort Jack, the patience you demonstrated with Owen, and the ferocity you showed against the Master, and you’ll be an amazing mum_.’  She smiled a bit sadly then, adding, ‘ _Now me?  I’m another story.  I’m all angles, with no softness.  I’d be no kind of a mum, not like you and Esther_.’

 Tosh protested, or tried to protest, but Suzie’s smile turned even sadder and whatever words she might have utilized flew away.  She couldn’t convince Suzie, but Tosh still believed the other woman would make a wonderful mum.  Esther agreed, sighing that Suzie feared being a bad mother because of her formative years.  Which was a polite way of saying that she feared following in her father’s footsteps and abusing her child.  It was one of the rare heart-to-heart conversations that Tosh had with Esther.  It wasn’t because she disliked the pretty blonde American.  However, the truth was, in some ways, they were too much alike.  They could talk to each other about Jack (because they both loved him, in vastly different ways) … and about Suzie, who was their polar opposite in so many ways.  Esther observed a bit ruefully that Suzie balanced out both Tosh and Esther.  The tech certainly couldn’t argue with that.  She then teased Esther about what that meant for her relationship with Ianto and Jack.

 Her American friend just shook her head and sighed, ‘ _when I figure that out, I’ll let you know_.’  Then again, that was a standard answer from Esther where Ianto and Jack were involved.  Tosh didn’t mind.  Like many blissful newlyweds, all she wanted was for her friends to be as happy as she was.  However, unlike newly-married young brides, she wouldn’t stoop to matchmaking.  There were just some things that should be left to other people, and for Toshiko Sato-Harkness, matchmaking topped the list.  Besides.  Her first priority, in terms of relationships, had to be her husband and unborn child.  She had to trust Esther, Ianto and Jack to work things out on their own.  And she did.

 “Whatever shall we do with our day off, husband?” she asked now, saving her current project and resting her head on Gray’s shoulder.  Mmm, she really did love 51st century pheromones.  Sometimes several times in a given night, and Tosh laughed at herself.  Gray’s arms Tightened around her waist, his mouth finding a spot just above the curve of her shoulder that always made her melt.  She had several ideas about their day off, and only a few of them involved sex.  They still had to put together the rest of the furniture for the nursery … the smaller items, since Gray and Jack took care of the larger items, with some assistance from Ianto and a protesting Owen.

 The four men also took care of painting the nursery … a soft, warm yellow, while Tosh, Esther and Suzie discussed everything except work.  It felt good to simply talk and joke and _be_ for a while, without worrying about work, or the world ending.  If the Rift spat something out, Jack programmed his Vortex Manipulator to receive those alerts.  He was determined to make sure that his niece or nephew would have the best nursery in Cardiff, if not the world. Gray merely smiled sadly, because despite the younger brother’s words, Jack still felt as if he failed Gray when they were children.  There wasn’t the guilt which Gray so hated, but Jack was still trying to atone for the separation by spoiling the baby before he/she was even born.

 “I don’t know what the two of you are doing, but you should get going before a Rift alert changes your plans.  Gray, take your gorgeous wife home and pamper her.  That’s an order, little brother,” Jack’s voice interrupted and Tosh giggled as Gray spun her chair to face her boss.  Jack’s eyes softened as he looked at her, adding, “You look absolutely radiant, Tosh.  Have you two discussed names?”  His bright eyes gleamed as he looked from one to the other, and Tosh offered a smile of her own, because really, when he shifted out of ‘captain’ mode and into being Jack, he was truly adorable about the baby.  Jack had always been protective of her, but now he treated her like a delicate piece of crystal.  It was both sweet and aggravating … kinda like Jack.

 “A little bit, but we still have time.  Ianto and Esther are still going through the old case files regarding the space whale, Jack … what will you be doing?” Tosh asked curiously as she leaned back into Gray’s arms.  He merely smiled, that smile Tosh hated because it never quite reached his eyes.  The way her husband’s muscles tightened under her hands told her that he felt the same way.  There was a time when Tosh only knew some of Jack’s expressions and smiles, but her marriage to his younger brother gave the young woman a whole new insight into her boss, her friend, her savior, her brother-in-law.  Through Gray’s eyes, she saw the boy whom Jack was once, and her heart broke for him.  At the same time, though, she was so damn _proud_ of him.

 “What I always do, Toshiko, of course.  Watch you all,” Jack replied mildly, an eyebrow arching with obvious amusement.  Gray whimpered and face-palmed at his brother’s obvious innuendo, while Tosh just laughed.  This current case was taking its toll on her brother-in-law, but Jack was one of the strongest people she’d ever known.  He’d make it through to the other side.  And when he did, Tosh knew that she and the others would be there to take care of him.  It was only right.  He took care of them, and they took care of him.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

It wasn’t his intention to do much of anything, once Gray took Tosh home to their little flat.  He still had paperwork to finish, and he knew Esther and Ianto were doing research on their first foray with the space whale … when they weren’t wandering out of the archives to stare at him anxiously.  They were worried about him, he knew … his beautiful Welshman and his gentle, golden American girl.  Then again, he knew they worried about him quite frequently, but they were usually better about disguising it.  Jack poked his head into the Archives, smiling softly at the sight of Ianto and Esther poring over the case files, tossing theories back and forth.  They worked well together, they always had.  Jack had only to remember peeking into the conference when Esther returned from Scotland, to find the pair putting away the pizzas.  Ianto was still wary of the new American girl, but Esther earned his trust, just as she earned the trust of everyone else in the team.

 Still smiling, Jack retreated to his own office … briefly.  The intention was to return to his paperwork (which he hated, but had to be done).  That was the intention, at least.  What was it that they said about the best intentions?  Jack shook his head, trying to focus.  But it took him a grand total of fifteen minutes to realize that wouldn’t happen.  He was restless, mind and body, and with a quick call down to his two … partners, Jack made his way out of the Hub and onto the Plas, inhaling deeply.  He began to walk, not really caring where he was going … he just needed to clear his head, and after more than a hundred years in Cardiff, there were few parts of the city he didn’t know. 

 His wanderings took him to a pub the Torchwood team frequented when the Rift permitted (which was rare, but made those evenings all the sweeter).  It was even more rare that he ordered alcohol.  Not unheard of, but rare … after drinking hyper vodka for the first thirty-plus years of his life … well, nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first century alcohol didn’t even come close.  Usually when he ordered contemporary liquor, it was for the purposes of being sociable … or getting information.  He sat at one of the tables, watching people pass outside.  Most of the time, he would find his way to a roof, to see the entire city.  Other times, though, he came here, and Jack smiled to himself.  Big picture versus little picture.

 It was because of that little picture that he was staring out the window as a familiar car pulled up in front of the pub.  Jack raised his eyebrows curiously as Rhys Williams lurched out of the car, waving to the driver of the car (or maybe waving her off, as in ‘ _go away, leave me alone and let me get drunk in peace_ ,’ which was also a possibility).  Rhys entered the pub and made for the loo in the back, and to say that he didn’t look well would have been a small understatement.  Jack rose swiftly to his feet, quietly acknowledging that there was probably little he could do for Rhys … but at the very least, he could keep other patrons from causing him trouble.  Just to be safe, he left a tip on the table, in the event he didn’t return.

 That proved to be one of his wiser ideas, as Rhys completely bypassed the loo and headed out the backdoor.  Jack quickened his steps, by now sure that the lorry driver was about to get himself into some very serious trouble.  Jack had no idea what happened to put him in such a frame of mind, but he did know that leaving Rhys alone would be a Very Bad Idea of epic proportions.  As soon as he exited through the back door, Jack realized just how right he was.  Oh, this couldn’t end well.  Rhys walked right into a right mess.  Worse yet, rather than quietly backing away, he decided to confront the four young men engaging in some highly illegal (to say nothing of highly dangerous) activities.

 Under normal circumstances, Jack would have quietly phoned in a tip to the constabulary and let them take care of it, since that was, you know, their job.  However, this time, an innocent civilian was in the middle of it … and Jack wasn’t about to let Rhys deal with this on his own.  So, he went ahead and made that quick call to the constabulary (because he had a feeling they would be needed by the time everything was said and done), before slipping forward to stand at Rhys’ side.  He was unfortunately, painfully right.  Things quickly went pear-shaped, one of the young toughs pulled a knife and a bit predictably, Jack pushed between him and Rhys … and the blade slid between two of his ribs, puncturing a lung.  Jack had just enough time to think, ‘ _Ianto’s gonna be furious, he loves this waistcoat_ ,’ before pain overwhelmed him, and he collapsed into Rhys’ arms.  The young toughs (just as predictably) panicked and ran away.  Rhys gently lowered Jack to the ground, sounding just as panicked as their erstwhile young toughs.

 “Oh, God … oh God, I’m so sorry!  This is all my fault … hang on, you gotta hang on, okay?” Rhys breathed, putting pressure on the knife wound with both hands.  Jack barely bit back a moan of pain, because oh gods, it hurt so much!  But Rhys was already terrified and guilt-ridden, and besides, Jack had the uneasy sense that making much noise, of any kind, would only hurt worse.  He struggled to cobble together the breath he needed just to impart the information he needed Rhys to have.  He already knew that he wouldn’t survive this knife wound, and he also knew that when he came back, he would scare the hell out of Rhys.

 “Not … oh.  Not your … fault.  Just … don’t … leave me here.  Please?” Jack gasped, his lungs screaming in pain at the use of his oxygen, the oh-so-precious oxygen he just expended.  He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the intense pain that swamped over him.  A gentle hand brushed the fringe away from his eyes, and he wanted to laugh at the improbability of Rhys Williams, of all people, petting his hair that way.  After a moment, he got another surprise when a pair of strong arms lifted him up with one arm around his shoulders and the other one under his knees, but he didn’t have the strength to protest or even to tease Rhys about how heroic he must have looked at that moment, carrying Jack carefully from the alley.  Besides, it was probably just as well.  If he’d opened his mouth for such a tease, Rhys might have dropped him for being such a prat.  Instead, he relaxed as much as he was able.

 It was in the back of his mind to ask how Rhys intended to go anywhere, when the detective dropped him off in front of the pub, when the other man murmured, “There … good lass, leaving the car where I could find it.  Come along, then.”  A few minutes after that, Jack was being propped against the side of a car (though he couldn’t have said what kind), a door was opened, and he was eased inside.  Jack wondered a bit numbly why no one asked Rhys about why he was carrying a man, but dismissed it from his mind as unimportant.  Rhys asked gently, a warm hand cupping his face, “To hospital it is.”

 “No … no hospital.  Just … don’t leave … me.  Promise?  Call … call my team.  Ianto, Esther.  Call them.  But … no … hospital.  Do … no … good,” Jack rasped out, forcing his eyes open to see Rhys William looking both mulish and terrified.  Jack reached out his hand, fumbling for something he wasn’t even sure about, and Rhys caught it immediately.  Jack squeezed it with his remaining strength, little as that was, and mouthed again, ‘ _please_.’  Rhys looked at the spreading stain on Jack’s waistcoat and shirt, at their joined hands, and then his expression grew determined.  Jack had no way of knowing whether that was a good sign or not.  He prayed that it was, because he hadn’t the strength to stop Rhys from taking him to the hospital, and lacked the breath to explain just why that would be such a disaster.

 “All right, mate … we’ll do it your way, but only because you ended the bastards who tortured that poor beastie and killed my Gwen.  I imagine it has something to do with this covert ops team you run?” Rhys asked as he started the car.  Jack closed his eyes, letting Rhys think just that, if it helped.  Fortunately, the man continued talking to himself as he pulled out of the parking space, and began to drive.  A lot of it was in Welsh, which Jack understood, but was simply too exhausted and in too much pain to try to mentally translate it.

 At length, the car drew to a halt, and Rhys once more came around to the passenger side of the car and lifted Jack out.  This time, Jack was forced to use his weakening limbs in the walk from the car to the bungalow.  He clung to Rhys with both hands, focusing on making his legs move.  It was likely the longest twenty-five steps of Jack’s very long life, and by the time they reached the door, Jack was leaning into Rhys, and not in a way he would have normally enjoyed.  At last, however, Jack was once more scooped into the lorry driver’s arms as he was carried inside and placed with infinite gentleness on a bed.  Once more, his fringe was pushed back from his forehead, and Jack fuzzily reflected that Rhys would make a great father.  He thought sadly of his own lost father, and then lost track of anything for a few minutes, until Rhys murmured, “There now.  I’ve called your team, now you need to rest and hold on for them.”

 Jack barely managed to breathe out a ‘ _thank you_ ,’ because his body was in the process of shutting down, it had had enough, thank you ever so much.  Rhys murmured, his body settling on the mattress beside Jack, “Oh, no, you don’t … I told you, you’ll hold on until they get here!  If you think I’m lettin’ you die on me watch, you’re outta your mind.  I still have to buy you and the rest of your team a drink!  Captain?  Dammit, Captain, you hold on!  You can’t die!”  Jack wished again that he had the strength to reassure Rhys, to tell him that he would be right back, but he expended all of his energy (and too much of his oxygen) just in asking Rhys not to take him to the hospital.  Rhys scooped him into his arms once more, cradling him against his chest.

As the other man said again, “Don’t die, please don’t die, don’t go,” Jack felt the familiar blackness reaching up to take hold of him.  It would be too late for Owen to get here, not that he could have done anything.  As he died, still held in Rhys Williams’ arms, Jack just enough time to hope Rhys wouldn’t kill him again when he woke up, and then he died, his body going limp.  He never felt the other man’s arms tightening around him convulsively … nor did he hear Rhys cry out in grief and rage.

 

 

TBC


	5. What's Next?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys must come to terms with the changes to his reality; Ianto helps with the process; while Suzie and Owen carry out their own mission in the wake of the stabbing.

Chapter Four

 

 

 

What’s Next?

 

 

 

Rhys wanted it made absolutely clear … he was _not_ a girl, and he _didn’t_ react like a girl.  Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have pulled the dying captain who sacrificed his life to save Rhys into his arms.  The trouble was, the circumstances were anything but ordinary.  First, there was the small matter of Captain Jack Harkness (yeah, Rhys finally learned his name from Kathy Swanson, and wasn’t that just like herding cats) risking his life to save Rhys from his own folly.  Usually, Rhys was a sensible sort of bloke, not the kind to confront young hooligans who weren’t thinking clearly for their own reasons on his own (namely, drugs and alcohol).

And second … second, the memories of the day Gwen died, never far from the surface, returned with a vengeance.  As the dark-haired American died, Rhys found himself back in that warehouse … but this time, he wasn’t injured … this time, he was able to do what he wanted to do, do what he was unable to do … and pull the captain into his arms.  He held Jack Harkness as he died, because he wasn’t able to hold Gwen as she died.  Rhys whispered, still holding the man, “Why’d you do it?  Why?”

“Because that’s who he is … no, it’s okay.  Having someone holding him when he comes back helps … Ianto, you take the front, I’ll take the back.  It’ll freak him out if a stranger is holding him,” a blonde girl said … the same blonde girl he encountered at the cemetery the previous day, when things began to unravel.  Rhys started to ask a question, but his mind went blank.  She smiled at him gently, saying, “It’s okay.  He’ll be back in a few minutes.  Owen and Suzie are dealing with the hooligans you encountered.  I’m Esther Drummond, and this is Ianto Jones.”

“If he was stabbed, it may take up to an hour for him to come back.  If your arms get tired, Mr. Williams, let me know.  One of us can swap out with you,” a dark-haired young man observed.  Rhys again tried to ask a question, but his mind wasn’t cooperating.  He was only able to process that the young man spoke with a Welsh accent (which stood to reason, since the American girl addressed him as ‘Ianto,’ and that was about as Welsh as you could get).  He squirmed onto the bed beside Rhys and the dead captain (and yes, he was dead, but Rhys found he wasn’t ready to let him go, which really weirded him out), gently stroking the cooling skin.  The blonde girl crawled up on the bed behind the men, petting the captain’s hair.

Rhys finally found his tongue and blurted, “What the hell … who are you people, how the hell did you find us so quickly, and why are you talking about him as if he wasn’t dead!  He died, he died in my arms, he’s gone!”  The two young people shared a glance that was … well, Rhys couldn’t quite figure out what that glance meant.  There was a touch of sadness … more than a little resignation … as well as a sort of grim amusement. 

That grim amusement was present as Ianto Jones answered dryly, “In order of the questions as they were asked:  we’re Torchwood.  That’s also how we found you so quickly after you called us.  And as to why we’re talking about Jack as if he’ll be back shortly … relatively speaking … it’s because he will be.”  Rhys blinked at the young man in astonishment.  What?  That just … what?  Ianto merely smiled at him before returning his attention to the dead man, sighing, “Oh, he won’t be happy about that.  Esther, did you mean that offer to mend Jack’s shirts?”

“You know better than to ask me that, Ianto … I wouldn’t have made the offer if I didn’t mean it,” Esther reminded him.  She looked over at Rhys, observing, “In other words, Jack dies, but he gets better.  It hurts when he dies and it hurts when he comes back.  And he’s always disoriented when he comes back, so one of us tries to be there.  Apparently, he was alone the first time he awoke from being dead.”  Ianto’s pleasant young face tightened and Rhys wasn’t the only one who noticed, because Esther asked softly, “Ianto?  What is it?”  Ianto shook his head, and Esther observed, “All right.  But you _are_ telling me later, got it?”

This time, Ianto smiled, answering, “Of course I will.  But Rhys has enough to deal with right now, with Jack dying in his arms.  Besides, there are some things that should be kept in-house.”  Esther merely raised her brows, and Ianto rolled his eyes, leaning forward to kiss Captain Harkness’ now waxy skin.  He added as he pulled back, “Never you mind.”  Rhys looked from one to the other, trying to process what he was hearing, but it was at that point that the body in his arms jerked with a sharp inhale of air, and Rhys damn near dropped the now-alive Captain Jack Harkness.  Ianto eased the rattled man into his arms, murmuring Welsh endearments.

Rhys stared in shock as he scooted back on the bed.  He was dead.  And now he was alive.  How in the hell was that possible?  His disbelief intensified a moment later when he heard the dead-but-alive man rasp out, “Rhys … is Rhys okay?”  Esther immediately reassured him that Rhys was fine, and the young woman gestured for him to come closer.  Rhys inched nearer to the man cradled against Ianto Jones’ chest so protectively and almost gasped when Jack Harkness reached out and took his hand.  But he didn’t gasp … instead, he laced his fingers with the captain’s and stared into wide-open blue eyes.  He was dead.  Now he was alive, and Rhys couldn’t make sense of it.  He started to ask a question, but he couldn’t figure out which question he wanted to ask, or even what would be the best question to ask.

Ianto and Esther, however, had an idea of what he meant to ask, because he was informed as both young people cuddled the dark-haired American captain that yes, Jack was human; they weren’t sure how many times he’d died; he was not originally from Earth; yes, he was born mortal, but became immortal after a terrible battle in his past and Earth’s distant future ( _huh_?); and dying hurt … coming back to life hurt even more.  Rhys sat and stared at the pair holding Jack Harkness protectively.  There was a part of him that wanted to fall over in a dead faint.  But he was still a bloke and he still had his pride.  So, he finally said, “Bloody hell.  I need a drink.”

“We all do, Rhys.  Ianto … Esther … no additives,” was the cryptic observation.  The two young people exchanged a long look, before nodding in agreement.  Rhys wasn’t sure what was being said, what wasn’t being said, but if he was going to hear this story … he definitely needed a drink.  Jack Harkness continued as the pair released him and he sat up straight, “I know you have questions, Rhys … we have to be careful about what we tell you, and we may need you to sign an agreement under the Official Secrets Act.”

Rhys found himself asking in spite of himself, “What’s the alternative?”  _What?  What’s the alternative?  What the hell is wrong with you, Williams?!?_ Another look passed between the three, and he learned that there was a way he … that he didn’t have to have the memories of meeting Suzie Costello and Esther at the cemetery, or anything that happened since.  That included his moment of stupidity when he confronted those hooligans and saw Jack Harkness die in his arms.  It was tempting to say ‘yes’ to losing those memories.  It really, really was.  But instead, he heard himself say, “No.  No, I’ll keep your secrets.”  And then he wondered what the hell he was getting into.  Still, he couldn’t quite regret it, not when he found himself on the receiving end of a blinding smile from Jack Harkness.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

Ianto was expecting something like this, as soon as Esther and Suzie encountered Rhys Williams in the cemetery at his late fiancée’s gravesite.  For months, ever since Jack awoke from his coma … ever since Gray brought him back … their captain remained haunted by his dreams.  Jack didn’t realize it, but there were times when Ianto caught him staring at the lot of them, staring at an empty desk, before shaking himself and literally mouthing, _‘it wasn’t real_.’  For months, he was the only person who knew about Gwen Cooper.  And so, when Suzie turned to see Rhys, it was only a matter of time before Jack met the lorry driver.  Ianto just hadn’t expected them to truly meet like this.  _So much_ , he thought a bit wryly, _for my claim to know everything_. 

While Jack and Rhys talked softly in the bedroom, Ianto joined Esther in the kitchen.  The young woman was examining the various bottles of liquor, a thoughtful expression on her face.  She murmured, “You know, I’ve been here for nearly a year, and this is the first time I’ve ever heard of Jack drinking liquor.  Usually, he drinks water … or coffee.”  This was said with a quick smile for Ianto, who merely smiled back at her, sensing that she had more to say.

And then, she looked at him, saying quietly, “You promised me a story … you know something about the first time Jack came back to life.  If … if it’s something he doesn’t want me to know, I understand.  But there was a particular look on your face when you were explaining to Rhys about how disoriented Jack is when he returns to life.”  Ah, yes … he didn’t expect her to forget about that.  The trouble was, Jack was in the next room (or close enough to the next room), and Ianto didn’t want to have this conversation right now.

“I _will_ tell you later, Esther.  I promise you, I will explain … just not right now.  There are things that happened shortly before you joined us, and I’ll need Suzie’s help to outline the way that worked.  I’m sure you realized this a long time ago, Esther, but Torchwood … it can be a bit mind-bending,” Ianto replied.  The corners of Esther’s mouth quirked and she raised her eyebrows, mouthing ‘ _a bit_?’  The young Welshman sighed, “Yes, I suppose you’re right.  For now, we should take their drinks to them.”

She nodded and asked in a low voice, “Did it surprise you when Jack told us that we wouldn’t retcon Rhys?”  Ianto began to answer, but shook his head as footsteps sounded from the bedroom, followed by Rhys fussing over Jack, and Jack trying to reassure Rhys that he was fine.  The two young people in the kitchen exchanged a look (because Jack tended to reject fussing, unless it came from Francine Jones), which threatened to turn into something more when they actually saw the two men.  Rhys was supporting Jack with an arm around his waist and Jack’s arm draped across the other man’s shoulders.  The immortal caught sight of Ianto and Esther grinning, and his bemused expression changed to ‘ _help_?’  The pair looked at each other, before returning their attention to their fiercely independent captain and smirking.

Especially when Rhys eased Jack into a chair, settled his hands on his hips and told Jack quite firmly, “You were stabbed in the chest while protecting me … you died in my arms … let me take care of you.”  His voice softening just a little, Rhys added, “This isn’t just about you, mate.”  Jack evidently understood, because his features softened as well and he gave a small bob of his head.  Rhys patted his shoulder before dropping heavily into the seat beside Jack, saying, “So.  What are your stories?  How did you two get mixed up in this insanity?”

“I worked for Torchwood One at Canary Wharf,” Ianto murmured, motioning to Esther to bring the liquor bottles over, along with the glasses.  He wasn’t inclined to tell Rhys anything more.  After all, he just met the man, and while he would tell Esther eventually, he didn’t want this kitchen to be the first time she heard it.  Ianto would far rather she heard about that time in his life when she was cuddled between Jack and Ianto.  More to the point that was a story that Jack and Ianto would need to tell her together, because she would have questions for the both of them.

“And I was part of a group of urban explorers that walked into a tunnel we shouldn’t have,” Esther added with a rueful grin.  She didn’t say anything more than that … whether because Ianto didn’t want to elaborate or because she didn’t want to overwhelm Rhys, the administrator couldn’t tell.  As it was, Rhys raised his eyebrows, mouthing, ‘wow.’  Esther continued, “Now, I help Ianto to take care of Jack and the others, and believe me, that’s a full time job.”  Jack glared at her, Esther responded with her best innocent look (and she was actually pretty good at innocent looks), while Ianto rolled his eyes, trying very hard not to smirk.  Esther just continued, “It isn’t even Jack who’s the worst of the lot.”

“No, curiously enough, that would be Owen … or maybe not so curiously … and occasionally Suzie.  Tosh is actually the easiest out of them all to take care of,” Ianto observed.  Esther nodded, although there was a mischievous little light in her brown eyes that Ianto learned to fear months earlier.  However, she kept her mouth shut … which meant that she was biding her time.  _Very well, then_.  Ianto continued, “So, you agree to keep our secrets. You understand that when you sign the agreement, if you fail to honor it, the consequences …”

“It’ll be my arse, I understand.  I won’t tell anyone about you lot … well, not that people don’t know about you anyhow,” Rhys answered, interrupting Ianto’s warning.  Now it was Jack’s turn to smirk.  That was fine.  Ianto would get him back later.  He always did.  Rhys continued a bit hesitantly, “I don’t belong in Torchwood.  I’m happy where I am.  But I’ll keep your secrets, and if you ever need my help … call me.  I’ll do what I can.”  There was a quiet honesty in the man’s voice that Ianto appreciated.

“Thank you,” Jack said simply.  The two men shared a look, and Ianto wondered what they talked about after he and Esther left the bedroom.  For the first time, he noticed the suspicious wet patch on Jack’s shirt … as well as the slight redness to his fellow Welshman’s eyes.  He remembered what Rhys said as he helped Jack into the kitchen … something about ‘ _this isn’t just about you_ ,’ and wondered.  Jack caught his eye and shook his head very slowly.  It wasn’t a negation.  More like, ‘ _we’ll talk about it later_.’  At the rate they were going, Ianto would need to write up an agenda for things that would be discussed later … including the still-sensitive topic of Jack’s first death at the hands of the Daleks on the Game Station.  But unlike the discussion about Lisa, that would be just between Ianto and Esther. 

The blonde girl observed, “More than likely, we will need help of that kind, Rhys.  There are times when we need … things … and people … transported.  Including supplies for … for our refugees.”  Good girl.  Rhys didn’t need to know about Flat Holm, not yet.  And she had a point.  He would have to talk to Jack and Suzie later, about creating a contract with Harwood Haulage, especially since Rhys was a manager there.  That would work out very well indeed … especially under the heading of ‘saving Retcon.’

“For now, I can hear Owen all the way in here … let’s go debrief him, Esther.  Rhys, you’ll be fine with Ianto.  He’s very good at taking care of people,” Jack observed with a mischievous grin.  Ianto merely smiled serenely as Jack and Esther left the kitchen, Esther reaching over to take Jack’s hand.  The two Welshman looked at each other silently.  There were so many things Ianto could have said, but right now, there were things that Rhys needed to say … they would get to the things that he needed to hear later.

At last, Rhys said quietly, “Thank you for pouring me a drink.  Needed it, after today.  I wanted to let it go.  Aside from buying you lot a drink for what you did for me and my Gwen and that poor thing.  But my mates called Kathy Swanson.  S’pose I can’t blame them, they were trying to look out for me, but today was a good day, you know?  And then she showed up at my job, and everything I thought I knew about my Gwen, about the woman I would have married in another few weeks … it seems as if I didn’t know her at all.  I told Captain Harkness about this, you know.  We lay on that bed in there, and he held my hand while I told him what Kathy told me.  Funny thing.  Never held hands with a man before, but it wasn’t …” Here, Rhys faltered, as if trying to explain the circumstances to Ianto. 

“It was for your comfort, rather than about sex.  Jack has done that before,” Ianto replied.  He remembered finding John Ellis behind the wheel of his car, and the tear tracks on Jack’s cheeks, and how weeks later, Alice Carter told him that Jack sat in that car and held the lost man’s hand as he died.  She told them as they sat beside Jack’s dead body, Alice’s fingers moving through her father’s dark hair.  Jack repeatedly died in Ianto’s car, died and revived and died again, so John Ellis wouldn’t die alone.  The young man fell silent briefly, before adding, “I’m sorry.”

Rhys shook his head, murmuring, “No.  No, Captain Harkness apologized as well, when he told me about how he knew me, but it wasn’t his fault.  It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t your fault.  I’m not entirely like the Rhys Williams from his false memories, but I’m the same.  Just as you are and aren’t the Ianto Jones from his false memories.” He was silent a moment, but only for a moment, continuing, “I meant what I said.  I can’t be a part of your Torchwood, I’m not built that way.  But I can … I _will_ … support you in whatever way I can.”

He said it almost apologetically, as if he owed them more.  But it was more than anyone offered in the past, and Ianto leaned forward, answering quietly, “And whatever support you can give us, we’re incredibly grateful.  I know you’ve been through hell in the last few days, Rhys Williams, and I can’t promise that it’s over.  But whatever comes next, you won’t be alone.”  The two Welshmen stared at each other for a long moment, and then Rhys nodded.  And if there was more than a touch of relief in the older man’s eyes … well, Ianto wouldn’t comment on it.  It was none of his business, after all, and they still needed to rescue Jack … er, to join the others.

 

 

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

 

 

Maybe it was stating the obvious, but by the time Owen and Suzie arrived at Rhys Williams’ home, Owen was in a very bad mood.  It wasn’t just the attack against their captain, although that certainly didn’t help.  They caught the two hooligans almost immediately, and turned them both over to the police.  Which was, in this case, Kathy Swanson … and wasn’t that a fun meeting?  Swanson, of course, blamed Jack and Torchwood for the lorry driver’s moment of foolishness in confronting those two idiots … and just as naturally, Owen let her have it both barrels.  Much to Suzie’s amusement, the twat who didn’t stab Jack actually defended their captain, informing Swanson that Williams came after them on his own.  Swanson looked very displeased, but if she didn’t back off, Suzie would make it worse for her.

And then they reached Williams’ cottage, where Jack was taken after he was stabbed, and Owen’s mood worsened.  Jack looked exhausted.  His deaths always took a lot out of him, but this went far beyond his most recent death.  The events of the last few days were taking a toll on him, but Suzie resisted the urge to touch him.  He wouldn’t thank her for fussing over him (and it really wasn’t her style anyhow … she would take care of him in her own way later).  Owen took one look at Jack, came to the same conclusion as Suzie and wandered into the house, muttering under his breath about checking over Williams.  Jack watched him, looking more than a little bemused.  Suzie cleared her throat, observing, “We caught the hooligans who stabbed you … and since she set all of this into motion, we dropped them into Swanson’s lap.”  The corners of Jack’s lips quirked, as if he wanted to chastise her for being uncharitable, but refused to waste his breath.  She shrugged, adding, “I’m not as nice as you are, Jack.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, answering, “Nice?  Really?  Been called a lot of things in my _very_ long life, Suzie, but ‘nice’ has never topped the list.”  Suzie shrugged.  That wasn’t her problem.  Yeah, Jack could be a ruthless bastard.  But he had a kind (most of the time) heart and a forgiving (usually) nature.  She had neither of those.  He was a helluva lot nicer than she was.  He always had been.  Jack continued after a moment, “Then again, ‘nice’ has never been part of my job description.”  Suzie could easily believe that.  Jack never talked about his past, not even after the team learned that he couldn’t stay dead. 

Even so, she and Ianto poked around in the Archives (not for that reason, of course, even though Ianto found references to Jack going back more than a century), and both were horrified by what they found … particularly about the early days of Jack’s tenure with Torchwood.  Suzie could still feel the cold cement seeping through her clothes as she and Ianto read through those files and journals, just as she could still feel the horror at all the different ways people found to hurt Jack.  A new pact was made between them, that the others would never learn of their discovery.  It was bad enough that they knew about it, but Tosh was pregnant … Gray was venomously protective of his big brother … and Esther could be downright terrifying when she wanted to be.  That wasn’t taking Owen into account, mainly because even Suzie had no idea how her former lover would react.

Blokes in general were odd.  Owen’s relationship with Jack was even odder, a combination of father/son, big/little brother, friend/adversary, and too many other things for Suzie to even begin to name.  While they were on the ‘Valiant,’ while they all found it difficult to watch what the Master was doing to their captain, Owen took it hardest.  Suzie lost count of the number of times she and Ianto (or she and Tosh, or even she and Alice) found it necessary to hold Owen back when he would have attacked the Master.  Of course, while Jack was conscious, the relationship was the same as it ever was.  Blokes were like that.  But while Jack was unconscious or dead, Owen refused to leave his side … regardless of the condition of Jack’s body.

It was then that Esther (bless her) observed, “Nice is a matter of perspective, Jack.  Besides, aren’t you the one who hates labels?”  Suzie laughed outright and Jack just smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head.  She continued more seriously, “I do want to make sure that they were reasonably intact when you handed them over to Detective Swanson.  I know that Tosh and Gray have gone home, but I also know how Owen can be just by himself.”  Oh, that was true enough.  Gray or Owen were dangerous enough by themselves, but when they were together … well, Aaron had the bruises to prove it.  Admittedly, some of those were bruises which Suzie put there, but her point remained.

“Not even a bruise on them, I promise,” Suzie answered and Esther raised her eyebrows.  The older woman swatted the blonde, adding, “OI!  Be nice, you!  I do have some self-control, you know!”  She added more seriously, “Right now, I’m more concerned with you, Jack, and with Rhys Williams.  Is he all right?”  More to the point, did her captain think it was necessary to Retcon him?  She honestly didn’t care about protocol in this case … in fact, she thought it would be a good idea to let Rhys keep his memories.  He might be a good ally, especially with his contacts among the haulage community. 

“He’s fine.  Having a drink with Ianto … without any additives,” Jack replied and Suzie nodded with a smile.  Good.  That was good.  If Jack chose otherwise, she would have asked him about allowing Rhys to keep his memories, especially given the circumstances of his fiancée’s death so many months earlier.  Besides, Suzie had the sense that Jack’s relief that he hadn’t imagined Gwen Cooper would be strong enough to allow the Welshman to keep his memories.  Jack continued, “In case you’re wondering, Esther, this goes back too far … especially with Kathy Swanson involved.  She knows about your encounter in the cemetery, she’ll remind him … yeah, you understand.”  Esther was nodding, her brown eyes thoughtful.  Jack looked at Suzie, asking, “Just out of curiosity, did you approach her or did she approach you, Suzie?”

“Ah-ah-ah.  She approached me.  You know me better than that, Jack.  We have enough dreck coming through the Rift, we don’t need to go looking for trouble,” Suzie reminded him.  Which was true, but that didn’t stop some of them (cough::Owen::cough) from looking for trouble anyhow.  For that reason, she added, “Just because I used to sleep with Owen, that doesn’t mean I’m anything like him.”  Judging from the look that Jack and Esther just exchanged, it was a pretty good bet that she was in a hole and should stop digging … any time now.  Suzie changed the subject, observing, “Speaking of Owen, you know he’ll want to check you over once he’s done with Rhys Williams.”

“I know,” Jack answered simply.  He paused before adding, “Are the two of you all right?  Did they give you any trouble?”  Suzie shook her head immediately.  Once the phone call came from Williams, the rest of the team immediately split up:  as Jack’s partners, Ianto and Esther headed to the lorry driver’s home.  That wasn’t even discussed.  Ianto and Esther would see to Jack, while as Jack’s second in command, Suzie would deal with the hooligans.  Owen went with her, because unless Williams was injured (which he wasn’t), he wouldn’t be needed.  Jack’s body would heal once he revived, and Owen always insisted on a post-revival physical.  But that would wait until they returned to the Hub.

“No … I think it scared them as much as it did Williams.  My take is, they never actually hurt anyone before.  Not sure how much good that will do them, but you just never know.  Especially since their victim doesn’t stay dead,” Suzie replied and Jack nodded, as if he guessed that.  Knowing Jack, he probably did, given how long he’d lived.  Suzie went on, “For now, we should head back to the Hub and let you get changed … looks like you have a bit of a draft there.”  Jack rolled his eyes, but caught the keys Suzie tossed to him.  Esther went with him, the young woman offering Suzie a soft smile.  It went without saying that she would take care of Jack … it also went without saying that Esther expected Suzie to take care of Ianto while Esther was taking care of Jack.  That was fine.  That was the way it worked.  Suzie winked at the younger woman, before heading toward the house and her chosen little brother, where her former lover was even now checking over Rhys Williams.

She had the sense that the man needed them … that he would be able to talk to Jack or any of them, really, about things he couldn’t discuss with his friends or co-workers.  He would be able to talk to them about the day his fiancée died, about the poor space whale (just a child, Jack had said, just a baby, and Suzie remembered how Esther wept for that poor animal when the human monsters could no longer hurt anyone), about a woman whom only Jack seemed to remember.  Suzie still didn’t know how that was possible, but it didn’t really matter.  The only thing that mattered was what came next.  If Jack was right about Gwen Cooper, then it seemed likely that Torchwood’s most terrifying crucible was yet to come … the return of the 456.  God help them.

 

TBC


	6. Epilogue:  Toward the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathy Swanson deals with the consequences of her recent actions; Alice has a few things to say; Ianto and Esther at play; and Rhys looks to the future.

“Swanson!”

Bloody hell.  That didn’t bode particularly well for the rest of the day, and the last time she heard her captain speak like that … Kathy Swanson’s eyes narrowed.  _Bloody Torchwood_!  She went into her captain’s office, cringing internally at the thunderous expression on his face.  Bloody, bloody Torchwood.  Her captain sat on the edge of his desk and asked in a deceptively mild voice, “Would you like to tell me why you decided to interfere in a case that is no longer ours?”  Kathy Swanson started to open her mouth, to explain about the phone call from Rhys Williams’ two friends, but her captain raised his hand, adding, “I know about the phone call.  What I want to know is why you didn’t leave it alone.”

“Because _someone_ needed to look out for Rhys Williams.  Harkness sodding well won’t,” Kathy retorted.  Her boss closed his eyes and she could see him mentally count to ten.  Actually, it looked more like twenty.  And then he opened his eyes once more.  The disappointment in his eyes struck her like a blow, and she swallowed hard, but forged on, “I’ve done some checking into Torchwood.  There was a mysterious death several months ago, long before Gwen Cooper got herself killed and nearly took Rhys with her.  Suzie Costello’s father died, Chandra Costello.  He … he abused her, and I think …”

“His wife killed him.  Not Torchwood.  His wife,” the captain said quietly and Kathy felt as though she’d been struck in the chest.  The captain smiled, the smile never quite reaching his eyes, and continued, “She couldn’t forgive herself for failing to protect her child, and so she took the life of her husband for betraying their daughter.  So, no, Detective Inspector Swanson, you can’t blame this on Torchwood.  Oh, and congratulations for pushing Rhys Williams into Torchwood’s metaphorical arms.  Since Captain Harkness saved his life … after you upended it by telling him that Cooper didn’t bother calling for back-up … Williams has decided to assist Torchwood in an auxiliary capacity.”

“Was I supposed to let him believe a lie?” Kathy blurted out, horrified that her best attempts to protect Rhys had blown up rather spectacularly in her face.  That was her sole reason in confronting Suzie Costello on the night of the encounter in the cemetery and then approaching Rhys the following day.  The last thing she wanted was for a gentle soul like Rhys Williams get mixed up in that black hole known as Torchwood.  They would destroy him, just as they destroyed everyone who was drawn into their orbit.

“You were _supposed_ to keep out of it!  Rhys Williams is a grown man.  You and Cooper weren’t friends, you weren’t colleagues, so Williams is none of your concern!” was the sharp retort.  All true, but didn’t Rhys deserve better than Torchwood?  The captain took a deep breath, before continuing, “Now, God knows I learned to hate Torchwood when I was a young rookie.  Hate, resent, envy, whatever term you want to use.  But one thing I’ve learned about Harkness is that he knows how to use that in Torchwood’s favor, and he’s kept our constables and our detectives safe that way.”  Unfortunately, Kathy couldn’t argue with that.  The captain shook his head, adding, “Your behavior with the young Drummond girl was bad enough.  But this?  Swanson, you pull something like this again, and you’ll be demoted down to constable.”

Kathy felt the color drain from her face and her captain nodded coolly, adding, “You constantly complain about how unprofessionally the Torchwood operatives behave and how they swan in and take over.  Very well, then.  Here’s my challenge.  Start being the better person you _think_ you are and start behaving in a professional manner.  We were lucky this time … Captain Harkness was more concerned about Williams, and Torchwood was more worried about their captain.  But they _are_ backed by the Crown, and I can tell you right now, Swanson, her Majesty will not be pleased with this situation if she learns of it.”  Well, that explained a lot about Harkness … he had a direct line to the Queen.  No wonder he thought he was better than everyone else.

But her captain wasn’t finished.  His eyes grew distant as he murmured, “In 1965, he took on a serial killer by himself … a serial killer this constabulary was helpless against, one that took the life of my sister and her unborn child.”  1965?  Was Harkness even born in 1965?  She would figured not …or maybe it was the current Harkness’ father.  The captain continued softly, “He took out that monster and spent nearly a week in a coma as a result.  He may not be professional as you understand it, Swanson, but that man has saved more lives than you can ever imagine.”

Now Kathy’s cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and her captain shook his head, murmuring, “You’re a good cop, Kathy.  But you need to let this vendetta against Torchwood go.”  She stared at him in horror, but he continued, “Don’t try to tell me that you don’t have a vendetta.  First you confront Suzie Costello over an innocent meeting in a graveyard, when you knew bloody well that Torchwood didn’t even know about Rhys Williams, and then you approached Williams when his friends said he seemed all right.

“For whatever reason, your loathing of Torchwood goes far beyond, ‘ _they swan in and take over_ ,’ or ‘ _they leave a mess for us to clean up_.’  I don’t know what the root cause is and quite frankly, I don’t care.  You’re supposed to be an adult, not an adolescent, so start behaving like one.  Because if you don’t, and your angst against Torchwood leads to someone’s death, I will not only have you demoted, but kicked out of the police force entirely.  That will be all, you’re dismissed.”  Kathy left the office numbly, wanting to blame Torchwood and Captain Jack Harkness, but the truth was, her captain was right.  By seeking out Rhys Williams (and then allowing him out on his own when he was still in shock), she put him in as much danger as his dim-witted fiancée did.  And that?  That was a bitter pill to swallow.

What was even more bitter of a pill for her to swallow was the knowledge that Harkness succeeded in saving the police captain in 1965.  No, he couldn’t save the captain’s sister or her embryo, but he did save the captain and ended the monster that took so many lives (assuming, of course, that he was the same person).  He managed all that, but failed to save Kathy’s own brother, who died at Canary Wharf.  It didn’t matter that he was in charge of Torchwood Cardiff, not Torchwood London … he was still Torchwood.  _Bloody Torchwood_!

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

She missed most of the drama over the last few days, between a new round of issues with her ex-husband (whom Owen happily chased off for her …it was actually a bit scary to see how _happy_ he was to chase Joe off for her) and issues Steven was having at school, but with her son once more on track and Joe running back to London with his tail tucked firmly between his legs, Alice Carter was now learning about everything she missed, everything that her father found it necessary to protect her from.  Alice shook her head as she returned to the table where her father’s two current lovers sat, sipping at their hot drinks and munching on the pastries she brought as a peace offering (mainly for Owen, who was cranky for some reason, but the food was never consumed by just one person, regardless of its intended recipient).  If she knew her father, he would never stop trying to protect her … even if it meant breaking his heart and hers in the process.  But would she do things any differently?  No.  No, she wouldn’t.

Still, she was pleasantly surprised when her father opened up about the dreams he had after Aaron kidnapped him.  True, there were some things she hadn’t wanted to hear, but it was so rare that her father would tell her about the things that hurt him … for him to do it now was a sign of breathtaking trust.  Thus, it was Alice who heard most of what Jack saw while he was buried alive, heard things that she could never unhear, no matter how much she wanted to.  She realized quickly that just like every other member of Torchwood (aside from her father), Gwen Cooper was nothing more than a replacement.  She might have thought she was a replacement for Suzie Costello (and wasn’t _that_ a scary thought?), but the truth was, the Gwen Cooper in her father’s false memories was a replacement for Alice herself.

When the thought first occurred to her, it creeped her out, because it was obvious that the Jack in her father’s pseudo-memories was attracted to that Gwen.  But the more she heard, the more she realized _why_ he was attracted to her … her supposed normalcy, not because he actually wanted to sleep with her.  The truth was, and she couldn’t blame her father for not knowing this, the truth was, there was no such thing as normalcy.  Most of the people Alice knew were broken or damaged … not because of Torchwood, but because of life.  It would have been easy to blame Jack for her own broken marriage, but her father didn’t cause her husband to cheat on her.  That was all on Joe.  She wasn’t innocent in the destruction of their marriage, but it was Joe’s decision to cheat on her, to take the easy way out.

Once she accepted that, it was far easier for her to also accept that this Gwen was a replacement for her, because in some ways, they were quite similar … ways that made Alice shudder.  She did find it amusing that her father thought he needed someone to remind him of what it was to be human, especially since her dad was one of the most compassionate people she’d ever met.  And even if he didn’t, he knew Tosh and Esther, both of whom were deeply compassionate and empathetic human beings.  Hell, when all was said and done, the entire Torchwood staff was compassionate … oh, they didn’t wear their hearts on their sleeves, but they cared for people.  She only had to remember Suzie holding Esther’s hand after the domestic shelter case … Tosh’s tenderness toward Jack after they returned from 1941 … Ianto’s reaction to the lost passengers of the _Sky Gypsy_ … and Owen’s grief over that poor girl who was raped and murdered … to realize that.  On second thought, it wasn’t amusing that her father would reach that point … it was damn near heartbreaking. 

“So, what comes next?” Esther asked softly as she took a sip of her cappuccino.  Alice shrugged, even though she knew what the girl was really asking.  For months, Jack was haunted by that last missing piece left over from the coma dreams, and now that he knew Gwen Cooper’s ultimate fate, it was her hope that her father would be able to move forward.  Esther continued, her mind taking her down paths that Alice never considered (which, by now, was hardly strange), “Jack knows now what happened to Gwen Cooper, and why she never joined Torchwood.  Well, aside from the fact that Suzie never spun out of control, but he knows what happened to her.  Will he be all right now?”  She’d been worried about him, just as Ianto and Alice were. 

“One thing I’ve learned about Captain Jack Harkness during the last few years,” Ianto murmured as he adjusted his posture in his chair, “is that he is quite possibly the strongest person I’ve ever met.  A weak person could not survive being an immortal, much less with the decisions he’s been forced to make, the actions he’s found it necessary to take since he was made immortal.  The fact that he cares so deeply for others, despite what’s been done to him, demonstrates that truth.  He is an incredibly strong man.”  Both Esther and Alice nodded their agreement, because Ianto was one hundred percent correct.  He was also correct when he continued, “That being said, just because he’s strong doesn’t mean we couldn’t or shouldn’t take care of him.  Jack will be all right.  We’ll make sure of that, and so will he.”

Esther squirmed a bit in her seat, and Ianto’s small smile broadened … and Alice realized a bit belatedly that Ianto put his sock feet in the young woman’s lap.  This was borne out a moment later when the young Welshman squeaked … actually squeaked … and jerked back in his chair.  Alice bit back a smile, glancing back at Esther, who was grinning smugly at him.  The blonde pointed out, “I’m not a virgin and haven’t been for some time, Ianto.  Putting your feet in my lap isn’t going to do anything for you.”

Alice nearly fell out of her chair laughing, especially when Esther turned her head a bit and winked at her.  The girl had developed a cheeky streak since she came to work at Torchwood and since she started sleeping with the boys.  Ianto choked, “But your lap is a nice foot rest!”  He must have tried to act on that, because his body shifted downward once more … and squeaked again.  Alice did fall out of her chair laughing at that, because Ianto Jones never squeaked.  Never.  Too much of a hit to his dignity.  Oh, she wished that she was recording this, because there was no way that Tosh, Owen, and her uncle would _ever_ believe her story!

“Are you sure?  Because a) you have enough virility and vitality to keep up with both me and Jack in bed and b) you aren’t the ancient god Math.  Oh, and c) don’t look so surprised.  I started doing research into Wales as soon as I realized that I wanted to stay with Torchwood.  If I’m going to be living here, then I need to know the old stories.  And Jack was nice enough to tell me about Lyonnesse, the British Atlantis.”  One of these days, Alice swore, the things that Esther thought of and the things that came out of her mouth would stop surprising her.  And if she believed that, John Hart had a swamp in the Sahara to sell her.

“To borrow a phrase from your homeland, I’ll plead the Fifth,” Ianto answered hoarsely, pale cheeks acquiring some (not-so) unexpected color.  Oooh, she made him blush!  Alice wished her father was here … he loved it when Ianto blushed.  Again, his body shifted, the blue eyes focused on Esther warily, but the American merely smirked and put both hands above the table where both Alice and Ianto could see them.  The young man made himself a little more comfortable, saying, “You are a very naughty girl, Esther Catriona.  _Very_ naughty indeed.”  Much to Alice’s amusement, Esther merely smirked again and raised her eyebrows at him in a deliberately provocative gesture.  She must have learned it from Jack.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to tell Jack and you both can … punish me tonight,” the younger woman retorted.  That sent Alice into fresh spasms of laughter and Esther merely grinned wickedly.  Even better, bless her, she chose not to expand on how she could be punished.  There were some things Alice just didn’t need to know, and details about her father’s bedroom acrobatics topped that list.  Instead, Esther continued, “I’m thinking that after everything that’s happened this week, I should do some baking.  What do you think?  Can I borrow your kitchen on a day when the Rift is quiet?”

“My dear Esther, I have told you many times … many times many … that you are _always_ welcome in my kitchen.  Especially if you keep Steven occupied at the same time,” Alice retorted, reaching over to squeeze the young woman’s hand.  Not for the first time, the thought that her father’s two lovers were younger than she was made her dizzy.  And also not for the first time, when Alice caught her breath, she realized that she didn’t care.  It was unnerving to know that her father’s lovers were younger than she was, unnerving to know that when she was sixty or seventy or eighty, her father would look the same.  But, she also knew that her father didn’t choose this fate … he didn’t take some serum that made him an immortal.  It was an accident of fate, because a girl couldn’t bear to think of him as dead.  There was something else:  long after she was gone, long after Steven was gone, Jack would remain … and that would give both her and her child immortality.  Besides, if something happened to her, her father would be there for her son, and what mother, what parent, could ask for more?

She thought again of the conversations she had with her father while he was regaining his strength from his go-round with Aaron.  She remembered the pain in his voice as he talked about the return of the 456, and about the Miracle, and everything that entailed, and Alice was fiercely grateful to Owen once more.  He had given her father back to her … the combined father-daughter-grandson team prevented Suzie from losing her soul to the Resurrection Gauntlet.  Her father had her, Owen, Tosh, Gray, Ianto, Esther, and Steven … he didn’t need Gwen Cooper.  And even if he didn’t have them?  Well, it was like Ianto said … Jack was the strongest person he’d ever met.  He _still_ wouldn’t need her.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

It had been a few crazy months, but he could see the light at the end of the tunnel … and thank God for his own sanity, it was the light at the end of the tunnel, _not_ an oncoming train.  The first thing he needed to do was come to terms with Gwen’s lies … and there were so many of those.  By the time he finished speaking to her former colleagues at the constabulary, Rhys had to wonder if she even knew how to tell the truth.  He wondered if anything he loved about Gwen was true, or if it was all an illusion.  And he wondered what that said about him, that he never saw through her lies and deceptions. 

That required a conversation with Jack, who listened quietly to his fears and his concerns … and that was how Rhys learned that his new friend was once a con artist.  Rhys was shocked, at first, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.  There was still something of the con artist in Jack, even though the immortal admitted it wasn’t something he was especially proud of.  For some reason, that made Rhys respect him even more.  He’d done things he wasn’t proud of, but instead of covering that up, he copped to it.  That observation actually made Jack blush.  Heh.  He made Jack Harkness blush.  Rhys hadn’t realized that anyone or _anything_ could do that.

The next thing he needed to come to terms with was the events of that horrible day.  He learned from Suzie Costello, who was far more fragile than he first thought, that the poor thing was just a baby.  Just a baby, and it ended up in the hands of those monsters.  It broke Rhys’ heart, and Suzie acknowledged it was a painful case for Torchwood as well.  Particularly Jack, who once found himself in a situation very similar to that poor baby.  Jack couldn’t stay dead … and that poor wee beastie couldn’t be saved.  Heartbreaking, it was.

He saw an alien.  An actual, real alien.  A baby alien who somehow arrived in this world and died at the hands of monsters who called themselves human beings.  Oh, yes, he knew from Jack that it was Torchwood who ultimately ended the poor thing’s suffering, but that’s what it was:  they ended its … _her_ … suffering.  The ones ultimately responsible for the baby’s death were the monsters who inflicted such agony on it … her.  Rhys could still see the pain in Jack’s eyes when he talked about the suffering the infant whale endured.

Rhys accepted now that he couldn’t have saved it.  By the time he and Gwen returned to the warehouse, the poor thing was already dying.  It took him a little more time to come to a conclusion about Gwen’s death.  Did he cause it?  No.  Did he contribute to it?  He accompanied Gwen into the warehouse, and their subsequent argument drew the attention of the bastards. Did his desire to protect his fiancée cause her death?  Maybe.  But maybe not, and when all was said and done, Rhys had to live with that. 

He also spoke with Dafydd and Banana Boat, both of whom were contrite and defiant about their conversation with Kathy Swanson.  They were contrite in what it led to, but they wouldn’t apologize for trying to look out for them.  Rhys didn’t expect anything else.  They were blokes after all, and their way of looking out for each other was far different from the way women watched out for each other.  Besides, they’d been at his side through Gwen’s death and its aftermath.  They’d work this out, too.  Things with Kathy Swanson remained strained at best.  He learned from her captain that her older brother died at Canary Wharf, because of the misdeeds of Torchwood One, and she held Three (that was Cardiff) responsible for the mother branch’s arrogance and stupidity.  Load of bollocks, Rhys thought, and the captain didn’t disagree, but that was how Kathy saw things.  Nothing good came of involvement with Torchwood.  Rhys knew that he wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing, but he also couldn’t deny that there was a need for Torchwood and for its extraordinary captain.

During the last two months, since he learned the whole truth about Gwen’s death (the hard truth), he got to know Ianto and Esther, Suzie and Owen, Tosh and Gray, and Alice and Steven.  Tosh was seven months pregnant, absolutely radiant.  She and Gray, Jack’s younger brother, were married, and narrowed down the names of their unborn child down to a boy’s name (Devin Shayne Harkness) and a girl’s (Jocelyn Amelia Harkness).  There was a particular story behind each name, but Rhys wasn’t ready to ask about those stories.  He hadn’t earned them yet.

And finally, there was his budding friendship with Jack.  It took Rhys less than a week after Jack died in his arms to realize that the immortal had few mates.  He had his team, yes, his little family … but few mates like Rhys had.  Rhys chose right then and there to change that.  Once a week, he would drag Jack out of the Hub (sometimes by the collar of his coat) and took him for chips or for a pint.  He realized quickly that his immortal friend generally drank water.  Rhys wasn’t sure if it was due to his immortal status or something else, but Jack drank what he was comfortable with, and besides, it wasn’t what you drank, it was the company.  _That_ was the point.

Slowly, he began to get stories out of the older man … stories about him and Gray, growing up three thousand years in the future … about the horrific invasion that tore their family apart and set Jack on the path that led him to the Time Agency, and then his time as a con artist, to the Doctor, and eventually Torchwood.  One singular event that had repercussions throughout time and space.  He tried to imagine what things would have been like if Jack Harkness didn’t lose his family on that godawful day and his friend answered soberly that was what was known as a fixed point in time and space.  He offered Rhys a shadow of his usual smile, adding that’s what Jack himself was … a fixed point in time and space.  Or, as his so-called friend the Doctor called him, Wrong.  Rhys bristled at this insult to his own friend, and only the revelation that the Doctor sent Gray to the contemporary time frame prevented Rhys from promising to give the Time Lord a fist sandwich when they met. 

Little by little, as Rhys helped Torchwood transport bodies and refugees and supplies, they became part of his family, just as he once thought Gwen would be part of his family.  But there was one who held his fascination in particular.  One whose sharp angles and prickly exterior held a scared child whose father betrayed her in the worst way imaginable.  And every day, she came here, sometimes even without Esther.  Rhys watched her from a distance, quietly placing bouquets at the gravesites of three feckless young urban explorers whose deaths led Esther Drummond to Torchwood.

She began the long walk back up the hill, smiling slightly as Rhys began the descent to join her, saying, “This is a nice surprise.  Esther told me that you sometimes watched over her when she came to make her weekly pilgrimage to her lost friends.”  He merely smiled and offered his arm to her, which she accepted with a joyous expression that made her look no older than Esther.  They walked back up the hill and she asked, “So, are you here visiting Gwen?”  He inclined his head.  The truth was, he was fairly certain he would always love Gwen.  But it felt like the right time to move forward with his life.  If there was one thing that he learned from Jack, it was that life was too short _not_ to let yourself love.  True, it was an odd thing to learn from someone who was immortal, but there you were. 

“I am.  Also refreshing the flowers in the older section of the graveyard.  I actually have a bit in common with your young Miss Drummond.  I learned from a conversation with her while we were waiting for Jack to be free for lunch that she does urban exploring so abandoned places won’t be forgotten.  S’pose that’s why I put these fresh flowers on the old graves.  They don’t deserve to be forgotten,” Rhys answered and Suzie Costello hugged his arm a little.   He continued, “Your mam is buried here, too, isn’t she?”

“Actually, no … she’s buried in London.  She was killed when I was nine … an accident.  Jack has offered several times to move her body down here and re-inter her, but I’ve never found the strength to say ‘yes.’  I suppose she had so little peace in life, I don’t want her peace now disturbed,” Suzie answered as they walked up the hill together.  He knew from previous conversations with his companion that Suzie was in the car with her mother at the time and while he wasn’t certain, Rhys had the impression that Suzie’s mother was trying to take her little girl away from her father before he could hurt her.  No one would tell him outright, but the way Jack’s eyes darkened whenever Chandra Costello’s name was mentioned … well, that was a story in and of itself.  Suzie added after a moment, “So, tell me, Rhys Williams … what brings you to this part of the cemetery today?”

“You do,” he said bluntly.  The moment had arrived and nothing was as he anticipated.  Ahh, well, he was becoming used to that.  Ever since he first encountered this woman and her young blonde companion in this very cemetery, more than two months earlier, nothing about his life was as he anticipated any more.  And that was more than all right with him.  A little weird, but Rhys was coming to realize that he rather liked weird … in the appropriate doses, of course.  Suzie raised her eyebrows questioningly … not in an arch way, but more confused.  And none of the nervousness he was sure he would feel was present.  As the pair walked through the gates of the cemetery, Rhys continued, “Would you like to join me for a coffee, Susana Costello?”  Now her lovely dark eyes widened … not comically, as Jack’s did on occasion, but very slightly.  Only someone who came to know her well would notice.

“Are you asking me on a date, Rhys Williams?” she asked with a small smile as Rhys led her to his car.  He didn’t answer at first, choosing instead to open the car door and help her inside, before closing it firmly and rounding the bonnet to the driver’s side.  Once inside, he hesitated, but only for a moment.  _If it’s worth doing_ , he told himself, remembering something that he was told when he first started dating Gwen, _then it’s worth doing well_. It seemed like that was a lifetime ago, and maybe it was. 

“Not exactly,” he replied, “I’m asking you to have coffee with me as a precursor to going out on a date.  See, from what I hear … no tales out of school, mind you … but from what I’ve heard, no one has ever courted you.  And someone like you, Suzie Costello?  You _deserve_ to be courted.”  He actually talked about this with Jack before he came here today, and his immortal friend shared a few insights he had with Rhys, including the possibility that Suzie would turn him down … not because she didn’t like him, but because she _did_.

Jack was right.  Again.  Suzie offered a helpless laugh, responding, “Oh, Rhys.  You deserve _so_ much better than me!  I almost became a monster, and I’m not a real woman.  You deserve a real woman, who can give you a child, who can give you a family.”  Tears sparkled in her dark eyes, and Rhys cupped her chin in his fingers, forcing her to look at him.  Suzie gave a low gasp, her eyes widening at the contact, and Rhys hoped against hope that he didn’t draw any ugly memories to the surface.  That was the last thing he wanted.

“Codswallop.  You are as real as any woman I’ve met, Susana Costello.  And aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?  This is just coffee, and maybe a date … not a marriage proposal.  Although, if I ever realize that I _should_ propose to you, it won’t be outside the gates of the graveyard … and whether you can have a child won’t impact it.  I understand your fears … all of them … and even if you can’t conceive or bear a child … Suzie, I’m saying this all wrong, but I think I could love you, and what I want right now is a chance to find out,” Rhys answered.  Suzie responded with another choked laugh.

But she said, “No, you’re saying it all right.  It isn’t just the conception and bearing of children, but the idea of being a mother.  I’m not Tosh or Esther, I’m not sure how good of a mother I could be.  But I think I could love you, too, Rhys … and I think I want a chance to find out.  But if we can love each other, you’re really okay with … all of that?”  Rhys reached slowly for her hand, giving her a chance to pull away.  But she watched him cautiously, making no move, even when he picked up her hand, curling his fingers around hers.

“Do I want children?  Oh _yes_.  I want children.  Can I be happy without them?  Yes.  I don’t want Tosh or Esther … I want Suzie.  I want a chance with Suzie.  So what about it, cariad?  Interested in giving a lorry driver a chance?” Rhys asked gently.  Her fingers tightened on his almost convulsively as she nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks.  He kissed the tips of her fingers before leaning across the console to brush a light kiss to her forehead.  A week after that meeting in the graveyard and that cup of coffee, Rhys Williams and Susana Costello had their first date.  Two months after that, they moved in together.  Four months after that, he asked her to marry him and she accepted.  Fourteen months after he followed his fiancée into a warehouse to rescue an alien baby, Rhys married Suzie, who was given away by her boss and surrogate big brother (after the required shovel talk from the aforementioned immortal).  Rhys thought that day in the warehouse was the end of his life … the truth was, it was only the beginning.

 

An Ending and a Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Welsh mythology, there’s a god called ‘Math.’ (patiently waits for the giggles to die down) According to some of the legends I’ve read, Math would rest his feet in the lap of a virgin to draw virility or vitality from them. And yes, I do think Esther would read up on the lore and legends when she moved to Cardiff, especially given what her new employer deals with. Also, it seems as if I contradicted myself … the police captain tells Detective Swanson that Suzie’s mother killed her father, while Suzie tells Rhys that her mother died when she was nine years old. So, did the ghost of Suzie’s mother kill her husband for what he did to their little girl, or did Suzie’s mother survive the car accident and return after a time to avenge her child? Well, it’s Torchwood … either explanation is equally likely. What would you prefer it to be? I’ll leave it up to you.


End file.
